It is Christmas Eve day. And I am serene. Yes, I can hardly believe it myself. I am calm. I am not rushing around, as is my tradition, trying to get everything and everyone just so. Everything and everyone is just so enough right now, right here. There are dirty dishes in the sink. Not all the presents are wrapped. The check engine light on my dash is on again. I am good.
Yesterday was the third anniversary of my best friend’s death. Vanessa loved Christmas. The day before, the 22nd, would have been my Dad’s 88th birthday if he had lived just a few more weeks. Mom’s birthday is next week. She would have been 89. So much loss to accommodate this year. After Daddy died last month, Jem stood orphaned in the middle of the hospital room, and quietly said, “The roof is gone.” Yes, they are both absent from our physical world now. How odd that seems. And even odder that it seems so odd. Do we expect our parents to live forever for us?
And with all of this, and the frenzy of the Holidays, and so much percolating in my mind, my heart, my very soul, I am calm. How can that be? How?
One word. Only one. The final word of the story that follows—the greatest gift of the season, of my life.
And of yours.
The Coffee on My Nightstand
The best thing about my life today is this coffee on my nightstand.
The sun is rising with particular resplendence and glory. The birds are back on the rail. The Gulf has finally relaxed a bit. It was a wicked storm.
And the best thing about my life today is this coffee on my nightstand.
My boys are healthy and happy and kind. They are making their way in the world without me, just as I always hoped they would. And just as I always feared they would. They are strong and they are smart. They are contributing.
And the best thing about my life today is this coffee on my nightstand.
I am healthy and free, unencumbered at last from compulsions that would destroy me. My body is strong, my spirit is open, my mind is curious again. I am calm.
And the best thing about my life today is this coffee on my nightstand.
It is there today—as every day—often even before I wake. Sometimes it is the scent of it that rouses me. Other mornings I get up to go to the bathroom, and it is there when I return, as if by magic.
Or as if by love.
My husband puts it there—every day no matter what. He is as reliable as the sunrise and just as lovely. If I am awake when he delivers it, he kisses me on the forehead and smiles, “Good morning, love of my life.”
Good morning love of mine.
The best thing about my life today is this coffee on my nightstand.
I have done nothing to deserve it. I don’t remember ever having asked for it. I don’t have to be a “good wife” or return the favor, or even say thank you. Though such tenderness inspires all of those responses in me. Still, nothing is required. It is free. In every sense of the word.
And like the sunrise, it just keeps happening.
Yes, yes. The best thing about my life today is this coffee on my nightstand.
The best thing about my life today, is grace.
Yes, Grace. May we all be blessed with it within us.