Day Forty-four: Life's Sweet Spots

I woke to the smiling face of my youngest daughter, as she slipped into my room and climbed in bed next to me. "Morning, Mama," she said, her cheery voice making me smile. I'm not a morning person, but my girls have a way about them that has frequently banished my daybreak grouchiness. Yesterday evening she came home and spent the night, after returning from her first trip to New York City. My gut clenched in relief to find her happy and in one piece, as I'd worried every moment she was gone. I listened to her excited, breathless chatter as she recounted her time in the Big Apple, and knew that even though my girls are now in their twenties, I was never going to get over the worry of them out in the great big world. I'm not ready for them to be grown, and yet they are.

Now my house is quiet again, but there's a pot of homemade chicken noodle soup simmering on the stove, and biscuits baking in the oven. The smell of comfort and rosemary is the perfect companion to this cold, misty December day. My soup bowl was a gift from my husband, handcrafted by a local North Carolina artisan with a gorgeous tree etched onto the front. Today I feel the strong pull of family and tradition, simple pleasures and nourishing love. Maybe it's the soup, a recipe Aunt Mattie was fond of. Maybe it's the lingering company of my youngest daughter from this morning, or the excited anticipation of seeing my house full of Schaefers on Thursday for our Christmas party. Whatever the cause, I'm happy for the taste and touch, sight and sounds of things that make what could have easily been a gloomy day into one of pre-winter holiday beauty. Besides, it's difficult to be assaulted by a case of the "drearies" with half of a warm biscuit in hand, slathered in butter and honey...definitely a reminder of life's "sweet spots."

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