When life feels crazy,
And the world spins out of control,
Sweep your floors.
Tidy your closet.
Do your laundry.
Buy a real card, one with dog-eared edges, that many people have touched,
but no one wants anymore.
Send it to a real friend, not a meme or an email.
Write something that you’d be awkward to say face-to-face.
Accidentally put a coffee ring on the envelope.
Press in it a flower from your garden,
or a dandelion from the park, or
Some old rose pedals from those flowers you dried ten or more years ago and which now fill a dusty bowl on your dresser.
Those pale papery reminders of important times.
Of getting older and perhaps wiser.
Post it with a bunch of old one cent stamps.
Shop at the florist on the way back from the postbox.
Pick up a single rose.
Nothing that requires arranging.
Pet your cat for as long as she likes.
Open all the windows as wide as they’ll go.
Line up your shoes.
Throw some out.
Sew on a button.
Flip through some recipe books but in the end put a roast, carrots, onions, potatoes, in a pot.
Splash it with red wine.
Salt and pepper.
Into the oven on 225 for the day.
Walk to the grocers.
Buy chocolate amaretto ice cream which you’ll eat in bed later without guilt.
Put on a favourite album. Ponder what albums are called these days.
When it’s over embrace the silence.
Sit on the front step.
In the sun.
Listen to the sounds of the neighbourhood.
Say hello to the letter carrier.
Keep a pad of paper handy.
Put a row of numbers down the side.
When a task invades your day.
Write it down.
Weed a bit.
Smell the roast cooking.
Plan to be in bed two hours early,
with a book,
that you’ll read until you fall asleep.
Scoop a moderate serving of dinner into your favourite bowl.
Light a candle.
Use a cloth napkin.
Buy a beautiful bar of soap.
Clean white sheets.
Bath before bed.
Appreciate what is simple,
what stays put after you touch it.
Embrace what is kind,
to a friend,
to a stranger,
(June 27, 2016)