There’s Something to be Said
There’s something to be said about an unencumbered weekend after a busy holiday week of travel, nearly twenty-four hours on the road all told when you factor in the ambitious highway miles and the back and forths of the various jaunts to visit friends and check out the local attractions. The brewpub filled with more SEC football than this Big Ten girl can absorb at one time, that chili restaurant we always manage to swing by in Cincinnati, the colorful sights and sounds and people of Gatlinburg – they’re the same as they always were, of course, but it never hurts to make sure.
Good times? Without a doubt. Exhausting? Absolutely. Everything jam-packed into five short days, then it’s back to the office as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. How truckers manage the endless interstate monotony, dodging inclement weather, inconsiderate drivers, and droughts of really bad FM radio through mountains and cornfields, I’ll never know. Suffice it to say, I’m glad to be home.
There’s something to be said about the luxury of a snowy December Sunday afternoon, not so close to Christmas as to feel constrained by shopping needs or party commitments, but silent and free and wide open to do whatever your heart desires before Monday rolls around and general worktime busyness intervenes.
Today, my heart feels like baking homemade buttermilk oatmeal bread and conjuring up a steaming garam masala-infused pot of coconut curry, heaped to the brim with a mélange of carrots, cauliflower, red bell pepper, chickpeas, garlic, onions, and ginger. Time spent chopping, measuring, stirring, and sifting centers me like meditation; the combined flavors and spices wafting from my kitchen into the living room where I sit with my laptop by the big picture window remind me of a kind of souk-inspired calming incense that fills me with a quiet peace.
There’s something to be said about making a lovely creation with your own two hands, whether it’s art or music or simply a hearty warm meal to savor and perhaps share with others, using the good china because life is short and delicious and meant to be appreciated whenever possible. And it is always possible. That’s the secret, you know, in any circumstance or venture, in every season. Breathing in what is right here, right now, and taking time to notice its beauty – there’s something to be said for that.