Last night I
made a pot of chili. It’s one of my favorite dishes, and my family likes it,
too. Generally, it’s spicy and on the hot side, which is just right for Hannah
and me, kinda sorta all right for Emily, and too hot for Kim. But honestly, I
don’t know how else to make it.
My idea of
cooking is to throw stuff in the pot. I never measure any of the ingredients,
but rather, just dump. My tendency towards various peppers and spices gets me
in trouble with Kim. Sorry about that.
But the best
part of the meal, any meal really, is the conversation and the laughter that
takes place around the table. A lot of laughter. Even after the meal has been
eaten, we sit around amongst the dirty dishes, the used glasses and silverware,
and share stories and laugh.
I have to tell
you that our youngest, Emily, is kind of a split personality. Don’t be fooled
by her! She presents herself as reserved and quiet, actually rather serious. A
deep thinker and concentrated observer of the Large And The Small that takes
place around her. But, she is the comedian of the family. She takes everything
in and spills it out with a catchy comment that makes us burst out laughing.
She and Hannah can resemble Laurel and Hardy at times, much to Kim’s and my
delight.
And while the
conversation and laughter around the dinner table doesn’t seem like much, it
has become one of my favorite things in life. Much like as adults, sitting
around the living room exchanging stories and jokes and catching up with
brothers and sisters, or as a kid, listening to the conversations that took
place amongst the older group. All the “Remember when’s” and the “How about the
time when . . .” All of that.
As I’ve gotten
older, I’ve come to Appreciate The Large And The Small in my life. Mostly The
Small.
I love sunrises
and sunsets. I love walking in the school cafeteria at lunch listening to the
conversations of the kids. Sometimes I join in, other times, I listen as I
stroll by. I enjoy music. All kinds, really, except for the type of jazz that has
an improbable melody or doesn’t know when to end. I love food and that’s probably
why I look the way I do. I like pictures and paintings of quiet forests, of trails
and of roads that seem to disappear that make me wonder what lies around the
bend. I like the fluffy cotton ball clouds that float in a blue sky. I like rugged
mountain scenes forested in green or snow capped.
I like books
that take me away to unknown places with characters that become real to me. I
like movies that keep me guessing and on the edge of my seat.
I like the peace
and quiet of early mornings, sitting alone in the family room doing, well,
nothing.
And as I get
older and walk along the downward slope of the mountain, I’ve come to
Appreciate those individuals who walked into my life and made a difference, who
caused me to laugh, who made me think. I’ve come to Appreciate those
individuals who have encouraged me to continue, to keep moving forward. I’ve come
to Appreciate those individuals who have lent me a hand to lift me up time and
time again. I’ve come to Appreciate those individuals who gave me a shoulder to
lean on, an ear for listening, and most of all, their presence when I needed to
be with and around someone.
Seems like each
of us has something to be thankful for. Seems like each of us can find
something to Appreciate, Large And Small. We just have to look- not so much
with our eyes as much as with our heart. Because I believe it is with the heart
that we come to Appreciate The Large And The Small that make up our lives.
Something to think about . . .
To My Readers:
My new book, the
third and final book of The Lives
Trilogy, Splintered Lives,
is now available on Amazon, free with Kindle Unlimited. The paperback version
should be coming shortly. The synopsis
is as follows:
It began on the
Navajo Indian Reservation when a fourteen year old boy, George Tokay, witnessed
and reported the murder of a Caucasian boy his own age. Kelliher and his team
of FBI agents solved that crime, which led to the freedom of thirty boys who
were abducted off safe suburban streets and held in captivity, some for more
than two years. The FBI thought the boys were safe and so did their parents.
After all, arrest warrants were served and members of the human trafficking
ring were arrested. That is, except for three dangerous men with absolutely
nothing to lose.
These three men
arrange for a handsome reward if fourteen year old Brett, one of the boys who
had been held captive, is killed. Brett has no idea that he, his younger
brother, and his friend, another former captive, are targets. But more than
anyone else, these three men vow revenge on George, whom they blame for forcing
them to run and go into hiding. What was to be a fun-filled vacation with his
newly adopted family, turns into a nightmare and ends where it started, back on
the Navajo Indian Reservation high up on a mesa held sacred by George and his
grandfather.
Outnumbered and
out gunned, George is willing to make the ultimate sacrifice, but can he
protect his father and his brothers from these dangerous men before that
happens? Can he save them without knowing who these men are or where they might
be? Or when they might attack? Can George trust his friends whom he reaches out
to for help? Is he prepared for betrayal that leads to his heartbreak and
possible death?
Splintered Lives can be found at:
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Thank you for your comment. I welcome your thought. Joe