I have been coming to the realization that there may not be hundreds of people at my funeral.
This may be a strange opening sentence. I can’t tell anymore. I spend a lot of time alone.
I’m smiling. people that love me tend to argue with me over this point. i’m not totally sure why. kind of, maybe, but not entirely.
i’m 44, i’m an introvert. i love and take great great pleasure in working from home and having the kids with me when they are. (mostly. i’m no saint.) i’m a homebody. i don’t want my kids to be sick but its a thrill of a lifetime when they are and i can nourish them to health. *I’m here, I’m the universe. I love people and I like to see them and laugh with them. but my circles are small, and i take great delight in the smallness of my life, most of the time.
when my dad died 5 years ago, there were hundreds of people at his services. and i’m not exaggerating. and i know other people who are still alive who will have that problem… well, you know what i mean… but i’m working on being really content with who i am.
working like: dirtyhands in the soil working. cracked skin and calloused fingers.
i have a small life. a little life. a life with children who are dynamic people living in my home still, a home, a dog, chickens, some land, a very fledgling ability to make a living…small. *not insignificant, just small.
*the universe is in the grain of rice, ya dig? thats me.
