i’ve been home for a few days now, just enough to be settled, almost enough to sink into the routine of waking up late, finding something to watch on tv, playing the sims, thinking that it would be more productive to just relax and get a fresh start the next day, and putting off doing anything of value.
uninterested in any of today’s dvr options, i sat in front of the shelves of dvds, thinking of returning to an old, light-hearted favorite. one of my choices was the sisterhood of the traveling pants. ‘but it’s not as good as the book,’ i told myself. then i decided to go up to my room and retrieve the paperback itself from the shelf of books that i have held onto because i might reread, but in reality never do. today i changed that reality. i sat outside on the cushioned lawn chair we own apparently for this type of thing, and read the entire book. and i might pick a new one and do the same thing tomorrow.
insight from today’s reading:
It was the first time in days she had felt that particular feeling of looking forward to something. […]
Maybe happiness didn’t have to be about the big, sweeping circumstances, about having everything in your life in place. Maybe it was about stringing together a bunch of small pleasures. Wearing slippers and watching the Miss Universe contest. Eating a brownie with vanilla ice cream. Getting to level seven in Dragon Master and knowing there were twenty levels to go.
Maybe happiness was just a matter of the little upticks – the traffic signal that said “Walk” the second you got there – and downticks – the itchy tag at the back of your collar – that happened to every person in the course of a day. Maybe everybody had the same allotted measure of happiness within each day.
Maybe it didn’t matter if you were a world-famous heartthrob or a painful geek. Maybe it didn’t matter if your friend was possibly dying.
Maybe you just got through it. Maybe that was all you could ask for.
– The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants by Ann Brashares