Something I knew I would miss after my wife died was being able to talk about the little things that happen everyday – observations, frustrations, celebrations, disappointments and delights. I remember saying this to a friend after she died and he said, “You can share them with me.” That was sweet of him to say. But even in that moment I knew I wouldn’t.
Nobody cares about how cute my dogs looks when they scamper and slide across the floor zooming through the house. Nobody cares about the small changes I made in my house that have made such a big impact on my daily life. Nobody cares about that I saw an ambulance pickup a neighbor in the middle of the night.
It was our connection, our history and our common experiences that made these little things interesting to talk about. To everyone else, they are just dull stories from a boring guy.
Too bad for you, my reader. I’m still going to write about them. Because I care.
A few months ago, I removed my bathroom door. It is unbelievable how much I have enjoyed having open access to this room without a door. I still get a little jolt of pleasure a few times I week when I’m navigating through the doorway in the dark.
Two weeks ago, I backed into my garage to make it easier to unload several bags of pea gravel from the rear hatch. When I pulled out later, I thought maybe I should start backing into the garage all the time. It sure made driving out easier. So I started doing this. Now at least twice a day, I marvel out how much better it is to pull out vs. back out onto the street.
I have a shelf in my closet where I keep my sneakers. Every day, I’d grab the next pair in my rotation to wear and then slide all the other sneakers over. There was just exactly enough space for all of my sneakers. I took my two most worn down pairs, designated them as my rainstorm sneakers and moved them to a different shelf in a back corner. Now, twice a day, getting dressed is easier and I have space to put down my wallet, keys and other items in my hands.
I know. Yawn. What an exciting life I lead.