And, yet… somehow… today is perfect.

And, yet… somehow… today is perfect.

In the midst of laundry. Piles of it. That (once cleaned and dried) will need to be folded.

Don’t mention ironing. I. Simply. Don’t. Do. That.

(And never do it well. Even when I actually try).

With a surprising lack of groceries. And-shopping-lists-still-yet-to-be-written.

A getaway car without wheels. Stuck. And still waiting to be re-aligned.

(Don’t we all need to be re-aligned?)

(It sounds painful, but necessary. Like when your back finally pops. Releases. Flexible).

I try to realign each morning, but sometimes… I. Just. Don’t.

I. Can’t. Fail. Won’t. Forget. Rush. Go. Spin.

Piles of things to study. Yes, piles. Books. Notes. Diagrams of the bones in our bodies.

(So brilliantly gorgeous to soak in and learn if I pause to actually see it all for what it is).

Life. Creation. Miracle. Perfect. Intricately designed. The work of an Artist.

And Anatomy and Physiology and Microbiology and Nutrition books were in cahoots.

They ganged up with the laundry and the growing-grocery-list and the busted-car.

They plotted and schemed. Go. You. Can’t. Realign. Not. Today. Not. Enough. Time.

They made an attempt to make me forget that… somehow… today is perfect.

But, today is perfect. Good as it gets, perfect.

And not in a “oh, pittiful me… somehow… today must be perfect” kind of way.

And not in a “somehow… it must be perfect in spite of the lists and all the spinning”

…

But, somehow… today is perfect…

In the midst of it all.

Because of it all.

Because of the spinning.

Because of the learning and growing and back-popping reminders to Realign.

Realign. Realign. Realign.

And to say thanks.

Because… today is perfect.

 

 

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