A day can contain so many things and yet, seem insignificant in the grand scheme of life.

We drove home today.  It was flurrying when we left and snowed intermittently along the way.  The mountains hazy in the distance – gray and snow filled, black trees against stark white.  The gas station that serves as our midway point was only accepting cash (a temporary issue per the papers posted to all the doors) but we luckily had some so we grabbed some food.  It was necessary.  Moments when small things – like the twenty stuffed in one of our wallets – becomes vital.

The truck glided down the road, moving faster than it felt, humming quietly but not raging.  A much different experience than the Jeep Truck (who remained unnamed) and Bucky before him.  We giggled as we discovered new ‘secrets’ – the way the wipers worked and the lumbar support built into both the driver and passenger seats.  But we didn’t talk much – it was one of those drives.  Gray and quiet and steady.   Strangely familiar but also new.  Comforting.

The joy of our second house is that coming home doesn’t mean massive loads of laundry and hours of unpacking.  It usually means taking Lucy for a good walk and unpacking the cooler.  Today we eschewed working out for resting – curling up and watching some movies while eating a homemade dinner.

We watched the end of “The Tender Bar” (begun before Ben’s last game but unfinished because after four hours of painful football we just didn’t have the energy to finish it) and “Coda.”  Both movies so simple but so powerful.  I watched the climactic scene of “Coda” and memories rushed back – of the day I sang in an audition, years and years ago.  What I wore, the fact that my mother and I drove through a snow storm to be there… or maybe it was to get home.  I can’t remember anymore and it doesn’t really matter.  My heart squeezed thinking of those moments – long forgotten but now fresh, of how my mother supported me and my dreams.  How she willed most of them to come true.  How she was always right about the ones that I shouldn’t have pined for.  How she was always right about most things.

It was just a day among other days, filled with small details and routine actions.  And it was a testament to the life John and I have built and the people we used to be who grew into the people we are now.  That’s how life shapes itself in my mind now.  Tiny building blocks growing into new and unexpected things.

Singers who no longer sing.  Writers who long to write.  People just being people to the best of their ability.

Xox, g