24 hours in late November.


This morning I walked to my office.  I wish I remembered a jacket.  The wind and rain chilled me to the bone. 

This afternoon I shifted to the shortest checkout line at the store.  In front of me stood a 70 year old lady, bluish silver hair, with lipstick about 1/4” beyond her lips.  You know the one.  She was writing a check… in slow, deliberate cursive, just like she learned in 3rd grade. Sheesh.   

Driving home, 3 different cars made quick right hand turns in front of me, only to slow down to 5 mph below the speed limit.  It was “pull-in-front-of-David” day.

I am blessed.

At the end of my cold walk, I went inside and enjoyed my work.  

Waiting to checkout, I was able to grab a warm loaf of French bread as a treat.

Slowing down gave me time to appreciate arriving home, like every night.  

And, with my extra delays, I got to reflect on life and put it to words.

I guess we can wait for a 24-hour holiday to give thanks.  Or, we can realize that every 24 hours is pretty awesome all by itself. 

4 thoughts on “24 hours in late November.

  1. So good to see you writing, David. Words have mostly been my friend. Your post reminds me of the phrase my Mom always said, “Make it a good day.” She didn’t believe in leaving things to chance. She was in equal amounts the most determined and positive person I’ve ever known. After living with MS for 46 years with few complaints, she basically made it impossible for me to feel sorry for myself. So there you go. Make it a good day, David.


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