At the end of a long day, I turned away from my vehicle tired and tense. My keys slid from my hand and I dropped my bag trying to retrieve them. I had just spent 30 minutes on the phone with a friend. I thought to myself, Perhaps I should get back in the car and make another call.
As I pulled my back straight, juggling phone, keys, and purse, I spied the results of my Saturday weeding. The night’s rain had brought forth another surge of greenness and a burst of color. The day lilies behind the mess of bush had pulled themselves taller, coming out from hiding. There, too, stood the barrel of weeds, spilling out. I had accomplished more than I realized. I raised my cell phone to snap a picture, suddenly feeling lighter. I shifted my burden and started up the driveway, glad to be home.
It’s the ninth day of the thirty-second month of my year without complaining. Life continues.