Serene Grace

It is 7:40 AM on a Sunday. After writing my last post, I needed some fresh air to clear my head and center myself, so I stepped outside onto my balcony. In the yard below me and to my right, maybe thirty feet away, stood three of the large, wild turkeys which wander the neighborhood in the early mornings and eat from my neighbor's birdfeeder.

It was a very serene scene -- nothing but the turkeys, the chirping of birds, and the cool spring air. The turkeys are used to seeing/hearing people in the neighborhood; they're not scared, and won't run off unless you approach them or get within a few feet of them.

This is life in Newton, Kansas. Quiet, peaceful, almost a zen-like calm. I'm going to miss this town, at least a bit, when I eventually leave it. I've spent some pretty formative years of my life here -- the past four years have been really formative for me, actually. I think I've "grown up" more in these past four years living in this house, in this town, than I have throughout my entire life leading up to them, and occasionally I have to take stock of things. This is one of those mornings where I'm grateful for my life, despite all of its faults (and my own faults).

I have a house. It's not a perfect house, and it needs a good cleaning and some occasional TLC, but it's my own as long as I can pay for it. I have a car that, while she may be less than perfect herself, gets me where I need to go when I need to go there. I have three beautiful, sweetheart cats who will always love me no matter what, and who have gotten me through some really, really rough times -- not to mention have also kept me warm on the many freezing nights where I didn't want to run the furnace for eight hours straight.

I have my wonderful, beautiful fiancee, Daisy, who loves me unconditionally even with all of my faults, occasional depressions and/or issues, and despite the fact that I smoke like a chimney and drink more coffee than should humanly be possible. She is the light of my life and the reason I keep getting up every morning (or evening) to go about it. Yes, Daisy and I are both pretty solitary, private people who want to be left alone for the most part -- but that works for us, and both of us realize how lucky we are not only in finding each other, but in our everyday lives and day-to-day routines.

I have my health. No, I'm not perfect; I've got shitty circulation, terrible allergies, and varicose/spider veins in my ankles, but I'm free of disease, I'm in okay shape (not good, but certainly not terrible) and -- as far as I know -- I don't have cancer. I've lost a lot of weight in the past several years, I have gorgeous hair, and I can grow an incredibly manly beard. That's more than enough for me.

I have food in the house and plenty of money in my bank account, and with that comes the ability to pay my bills, put gas in the car, and -- if I choose to -- go out and get something different to eat if I so desire, or go buy a new shirt and pair of pants, or to get the Blu-ray of a movie I want to see...or to actually go see a movie in the theater. These may seem like little things or minor comforts, but believe me, they matter. They matter a lot. The ability to say "You know, I think I'll order a pizza" or "You know, I should go check out that store on the north end of town that I've been meaning to shop at" is liberating in a way that I can't even describe. It makes me feel like a normal person -- it makes me feel human. To be able to have a bit of freedom in choosing what I want to do, when I want to do it, and being able to afford to do it without having to worry about the consequences is something most people take for granted, and something that I gained a newfound appreciation for last summer when I was broke and basically confined to my house, scraping by on pennies and selling all of my video games and my guitar and amp to survive through a few months' worth of food and bills.

But, more than that, I have people in my life who care about me -- not just Daisy, but my parents, my friends and family, and Daisy's family -- and many people don't have even that much. Despite all of my bitching about life and my deeply introspective, depressing-sounding posts here, I am relatively happy and I am optimistic about the future. These things seem to get lost in translation, or buried under all sorts of stresses or worries, or problems going on in the background (or foreground, at times) that I have no control over and just need to let go. It's so easy to forget about that and let thankfulness fall to the wayside.

Just a few minutes standing on my balcony was all I needed. I was put at ease, at least for that short time, yet nothing had changed -- I still had all of my worries, all of my thoughts and troubles and responsibilities ahead of me, but in that moment, none of them mattered. It was just me, the chirping birds and the turkeys eyeing me, and the fresh morning air. When I came back inside, my cats were waiting for me, wide-eyed with love and wonder as to why I'd gone outside, and I bent down to comfort them to let them know I wasn't going anywhere.

I still have student papers to look through. I still have laundry to fold and put away, a kitchen to clean, and a dishwasher to run. I still have a shopping list to make, fifteen graduation announcements (as well as an electric bill) to mail, and a house to vacuum. I still have garbage that must be wheeled to the curb and a cat litter box to be sifted through and refreshed. I still have two weeks of actual class left, then a finals week before graduation. My car will need an oil change and two front tires soon, if not other repairs. There are things to do and things to worry about, many of which are not mentioned on this list. But everything comes, and happens, in its own time.

I went back to my desk, where my cat Sadie laid down on my feet, and dispensed a cup of coffee from my coffeemaker. I lit up a cigarette and blew the smoke straight up into the air above my head to watch it slowly dissipate from a grey cloud to a discoloration of the air to nothing. And then I started to write this post.