Every weekend, we go down to Jimmy T’s for breakfast. This morning we rode our bikes. We wait at the door until two seats open up at the bar or in a booth. We’re handed our coffee in a random pair of mugs (today: a picture of Martin Luther King Jr. on one, “Happy Birthday” to a Wal-mart in Las Vegas on another). The food is mediocre at best. I usually get the french toast with a side of sausage. Jacob gets the huevos rancheros with the spicy salsa. Sometimes we talk; sometimes we eat quietly. The weekend now feels strange without this.
My life has had more change in it than some. Lots of moving and people and new towns and new houses and new jobs. Many lost connections. This is one of the reasons (I think) that I crave routines and familiarity and rituals.
So much has changed lately. I drove over the bridge today and saw the monument and thought: Holy geez, when did I move to DC?
My attempts at mindfulness have fallen short, which means I’ve lost some of the awareness of where I am and how I got here. But here I am nonetheless.
There are good, familiar, comfortable things, and I’m grateful for them.
I wrote a lot of things I meant to put up here, but I didn’t put them up. You know the drill though. Just take the step. Just take the first one. Just take it again. Even if you fail until the day you die, don’t stop trying.
