Perspective is a funny thing, an intriguing thing, and I love how once a shift is made, all is new again.
I spent last night helping dear friends paint like mad women! New carpet is going in today, and we wanted the painting completed lest there be any potential for drips. She was concerned she’d bitten off more than she could chew, with the deadline fast approaching. At minimum, we needed two rooms and an L-shaped hallway to be painted with primer first and then with color.
Laughter flowed, music played and three generations of women got shit done! The ease in which we all work together could be attributed to the decades of friendship or the countless other projects we’ve worked on in that time. When time came to pause for food, I looked around at the women I was surrounded by and smiled. We were all focused on the task at hand, all tired, all enjoying the moment and each of us wearing extra colors on our skin and clothes indicating which areas we’d been working in. Once our hunger had been satiated, we all rather unceremoniously went back to work. As happens when working on projects, yesterday morphed into today as the last efforts were being made. Once everything was cleaned up and washed out, we sat for a moment to look at what we’d accomplished.
I used to live in this house, and have fond memories. Heck, one of the rooms we painted was my old room! Soon, we’ll be moving their stuff in, and I am so excited for them. It was interesting though; how a fresh coat of paint, a new color, could make someplace so familiar feel new again. All it took was a shift in pigmentation.
Driving home, the waxing first quarter moon sat low and large just over the mountains. The smoke from the fires gave it an orange hue and wispy clouds danced in front of and around it, giving the moonlight something to hold onto. I called my friend, knowing she was also driving home and uttered a phrase we’ve spoken to each other far too many times to count, “Look at the moon!” I’m grateful to have those in my world who relish in the simple joys like I do, and I know she will forever be someone who will appreciate that phone call.
The rest of the drive home I was thinking about the moon. Thinking about how it goes through its cycles, how regardless of waxing or waning, full or even new, I appreciate all of the phases. I thought about how sometimes it’s so large on the horizon, whether rising or setting and how shifts in our atmosphere change how we perceive the moon- like the orange hue I’d enjoyed. I stayed up later, watching the moon set behind the mountains and pondered what shifts I need or would welcome, to add a level of freshness to my life.
In thought,
S
Sabrini Says 