I spent most of my birthday moving leaves from their resting places to a huge pile by the side of the road. Which is pretty good therapy for a guy whose brain has been on overdrive for about a week. Good to set everything aside and do some repetitive and satisfying work. To look up and see green grass where a carpet of leaves used to be, at the same time realizing that there is much more work to be done tomorrow in the other part of the yard. The day after that, I’ll probably find a few more on the green grass; and so it goes.
I usually get into a bit of a dark funk on December 1, overly reflective and skittish about the passing of time. Panicky about where my life might be heading, and nervous about how fast it is going. But for some reason, today was missing that. Today, I’m happy for where I’ve been, grateful for the friends around me, and hopeful (if a little fearful) about the future.
And the filet mignon for lunch didn’t hurt, either.