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.