The word “finishing” strikes my ear with particular beauty tonight. Have you ever noticed how full and twirly it sounds?
It sounds like a flourish, like a wish or a fish – it sounds shiny and swishy, don’t you think?
Today I had a mopey morning. J did his best to help. He took me out for hot cocoa. It was delicious. Then I savored his embrace as the cool wintery air swept over me and all I could do was cling there for a moment and forget where I was (which was in the supermarket, buying pasta sauce). One of my favourite things about my husband is that he will turn to me in the middle of the supermarket for a hug if I ask for one.
Hug is too ugly a word for the comfort it describes.
While J was at work this afternoon, I made a string of little ruffles. It felt exciting to be starting something new, and finishing (there’s that word again) something made me feel like suddenly everything that there is to do in a day (a week, a year, a lifetime) could be done, would be done: with a spring in my step and a song in my heart.