I’m sitting at my desk at work, and I’m just thinking about how happy and grateful I am. I’m doing this insanely long expense report, and for days I’ve been entering £1.50 bus tickets and converting them to US dollars based on the conversion of the specific date, and now I’m entering a large stack of papers into a spreadsheet…

I know, it doesn’t sound that happy making, but there’s more. The other day I took a screwdriver and removed the drawer under my desk so I could quit banging my knees into it, and sit cross-legged if I want to, which I am doing now.

And I brought headphones to plug into my computer, and I have Pandora playing a bunch of old Sarah McLachlan and Loreena McKennit and similar that I haven’t heard forever.

And the sky is still that morning gray we get in L.A. that reminds me of days in Indiana when it might rain (even though it’s very unlikely it will rain here).

And it’s just so peaceful, and the music is beautiful, and I’m in good health, which is such a luxury– and when I didn’t have good health I swore I would never forget that, but some days I do.

Sometimes I think, what if everything I write never finds a home, and just stays in a (metaphorical) drawer until I die, and then gets thrown away; what will my life have been about? And will people who knew me think of all those hours spent to produce nothing that they or anyone really wanted, and pity me for unfulfilled aspirations and talk about how I was “talented, but…” (which is what happened to my dad.)

But then I have moments like this, when I know with certainty that this life is a gift, and the way to truly receive a gift is to be aware of it, and grateful for it. And maybe it’s a result of this job and being isolated from certain aspects of the “industry,” or maybe it’s something else, like reading more books and so having more periods of transition from the book world in which I become so immersed, and the “real” world, but I’ve been having (or noticing?) these moments more frequently as of late: Walking down the street to my bus stop when there is warm sun and a cool breeze, accepting an invitation to stay up way too late and watch a Harry Potter double feature on opening day, getting emails from friends telling me about their lives, even if their news is sad–moments that seem full somehow.

And I am grateful, and wanted to write this so I could remember this moment.

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