Friday, June 11, 2021

            When I write a personal letter or email, I often start with the word ‘dear’, and it occurs to me this morning that perhaps I should start every moment today, and every day, with the same word. I could say to myself  “dear breath” as my lungs easily rise and fall, and “dear old and lined fingers” as they stroke the keys on my computer’s keyboard, and “dear amazing words” as letters gather in groups across the screen.  The word ‘dear’ means something cherished, and shouldn’t I cherish the way winds slide and sway among trees, and the way my 79-year-old feet find their way with grace across the grass in our yard? I could say “dear adored bread slices” as I prepare my breakfast sandwich, and “dear darling sneakers” as I lace them up before my daily walk with my dearest Delycia.  ‘Dear’ is for the precious things in life, and surely I could say, over and over again all day,  “dear, dear eyes” as they somehow bring the visual blessings of this world into my life.  Indeed, all of life today – absolutely all of it, the so-called ‘good’ and the supposedly ‘bad’ – will be unbelievably lovable in some special, secret way. Every single second could be a best friend. I could say ‘dear’ over and over again as the charming hours disclose themselves.  

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