Our year started off with a lot of movement – Chris gone while I was home, me gone while Chris was home. Finally we’re together in one place for a stretch, and I’m grateful for the comforting normalcies of everyday life with our everyday things. Or, as Pat Schneider names them in this week’s poem, our “ordinary things.”
Last night, cleaning up after dinner, Chris said, “Your mug is at the front of the cabinet,” knowing exactly which one I would reach for in the morning. And this morning, the sky brighter than it was even yesterday, I found it there waiting for me.
“It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea”
