Family dinner here tonight.
I wore my father's shirt, with the french cuffs, pale blue and white stripes, the sleeves too long, the frayed collar, the tattered New & Lingwood label. Like the old blue cardigan of his I bring out on difficult days, it makes me happy and confident.
Have you ever felt that you live just outside your happy life? That all the things you do and say are part of you but not really you? That there is another world you should be part of, just outside of your reach?
I read this beautiful post by my friend MrsL and it struck a chord.
You drive down the freeway with a handful of strawberries in a paper towel, breakfast on the run, and you think, the taste of almost on the verge of rotting strawberries is the sweetest and reminds me of my grandfather in Norway and the life he lived.
The rain is thundering down on the roof, an unusual rain for April in LA and I'm in bed in my father's shirt and I wonder, what is stopping me. Truly, what is stopping me today?
I'm tired and happy and only too aware that if life were to end right now I would be known for something that isn't what I truly am, but that truth is just a simple side step to the left, a step, it seems, that is too scary to take. Or not.
Tomorrow is a new day.
I vow to wake up happy with my ambition screwed to the sticking point.
There is, after all, absolutely nothing to lose.
And the rain beats down.