Still, Small Voice

I was in bed before 930pm yesterday evening. I woke once during the night, but otherwise slept through all the way until my 530am alarm.

For whatever reason, I was groggy as hell. The coffee, the loud music, turning on all the lights in the house, switching the shower to cold water. . . Nothing was helping. I had slept 8 hours, but it didn’t matter. I’ve really been busting my ass this week, and not getting adequate rest. And I’m not 20 anymore.

Oliver messaged me as I tried to wake up enough to write an article, and Emma to check on me. “Did you wake up ready to attack the world?” No, Emma. No I did not. I woke up ready to crawl back into bed.

But attack the world was exactly what I needed to do. So I would do just that.

After I stared at my computer screen for half an hour trying to come up with enough information about florists to get me 400 words. After I had to change my shirt twice because luck was not with me – first hair product squirted on it, creating a greasy stain, and then tooth paste. I stripped off the second shirt and a string of obscenities escaped my mouth as I threw it across the room.

I took a couple deep breaths and opened my closet door. Luckily for me, my work attire is simple – slacks and plain colored tshirts are what I rely on in the summer, and I have about forty or so in different shades. I had started out with hot pink, switched to a royal blue. I didn’t even look at the color options this time, I just snatched one off the hanger, and came out with coral. Good enough. I was going to sweat my ass off regardless of what color shirt I had on.

I was not looking forward to the clusterfuck.

My mood started to brighten as I drove to work. I came up to the light at the major intersection near my office, and as I pulled up to the red light I saw a guy in a bright yellow shirt jump out of his truck, and run to the window of the van in front of him. I paused several feet back from them, wondering if there was gonna be some road rage shit. . . The guy reached into the van window, and his hand came back out holding a pop. He turned around to run back to his vehicle before the light changed, and he noticed me stopped, waiting for him. He grinned this big happy grin and held his pop up to me and shrugged like, “I couldn’t keep going with out this.” Dude, I get it. I waved and grinned back.

Waking up, I wasn’t sure how I was going to manage today. But I cleared clusterfuck after shitstorm after clusterfuck off my list, and then still managed to get Matt to get his class ring.

And as I sit here towards the end of my work day – yeah, I gave up about fifteen minutes ago, I’m over it – it occurred to me. Today’s quote.

“The still small voice of gratitude.” – Thomas Gray

I took time to be grateful.

I was ungodly busy, but everyone I encountered today was friendly. I did sweat my ass off for a little while, but it was to make one of my resident’s lives easier. I was able to get Matt’s ring, and when he opened the box and the grin came across his face, it made my fucking day. I live and breathe for my hooligans, I’ve worked so goddamn hard to get us where we are. . . I remember my dad staring at my class ring catalog and sadly telling me he couldn’t afford it, no different than the year before when he hadn’t been able to afford Aaron’s. I remember the only way we got our class rings was because mom got a settlement for falling on a grocery store’s janky sidewalk, otherwise we wouldn’t have them. I remember how my parents struggled and it felt so good to know that even though I had help paying for half of it, I was still able to pay the other half and provide that for my son.

This evening I’m going out to Sophia’s to do brothers taxes, and Emma checked in on me this morning and Oliver had messaged me to talk about a business decision he had made. . . I’m unendingly grateful for my friends. It’s give and take with them, just like it should be.

Gratitude lives within me. It is quietly always there. I can never be down for too long, because it is there regardless of anything.

And that, my friends, is how I got through another day in hell week.

Happy Wednesday. You can never be too grateful.

Published by: A. Elizardo

Single mother to two amazing boys, sister to an inspiration, and the daughter of two opinionated, sarcastic, fun loving individuals that are no longer physically with us. Music, writing, reading, my family - living and gone - are what keep me going as I put on my rose colored glasses and navigate us through this crazy world.

Categories Grateful, Quotes, Self DiscoveryLeave a comment

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