This morning, I woke up, which is always a good start. Looked at my left hand, then focused on my left pinky knuckle – the bottom one. I flexed it straight and crooked slowly, mesmerized by how the skin gathers and folds, then straights itself out, gathering and folding again with each flex. The knuckle underneath pops up making itself visible only to disappear in flatness, the distinction between hand and pinky turning from a mountain into a flat field. So, that was the first 30 seconds or so upon waking. And, I was grateful. Grateful to what or whom isn’t important to me. But the gratitude itself is what matters.

This morning, I woke up, which is always a good start.

Looked at my left hand, then focused on my left pinky knuckle – the bottom one. I flexed it straight and crooked slowly, mesmerized by how the skin gathers and folds, then straights itself out, gathering and folding again with each flex.

The knuckle underneath pops up making itself visible only to disappear in flatness, the distinction between hand and pinky turning from a mountain into a flat field.

So, that was the first 30 seconds or so upon waking.

And, I was grateful.

Grateful to what or whom isn’t important to me. But the gratitude itself is what matters.

—–

 

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *


four + = 5

Leave a Reply