Then I hear a voice, a familiar voice, the voice of conscience. It becomes louder, ensuring I take notice of its message. This voice reminds me how lucky I am, that I can afford to fill a whole trolley full of food for my little family. We will survive, over-eat and probably waste this food over the next couple of weeks until there is nothing but a lonely, rubbery, carrot left in the bottom of the fridge.
Then I will go to the shop for another trolley load. This I am thankful for.
I am also thankful for the smile that was painted upon my face by a small, sweet, innocent, boy.
You see, I recently purchased a colorful new cushion to brighten up our couch. This couch that keeps getting soiled by baby vomit and little boy snot. The colours of this cushion caught his curious eyes immediately, when he saw it laying upon the couch. He thought this household adornment was a gift for him. I did not have the heart to tell him otherwise, he seemed so grateful. It now sleeps next to this small boy, cushioning him from his growing fear of the dark.
I am thankful for telephones, because of a conversation on my telephone my heart is full. The cracks of shock and worry have healed a little bit more. His voice sounded so strong, his wise but cynical personality could clearly be heard over those wires. His usual lectures on the worlds doom and gloom made me feel, not so gloomy. His few words of praise and encouragement are words to be cherished, to be sown in my very own plant pot and nurtured to life.
A sleeping joey, a warm breeze blowing through the orange blossoms, the wind chiming through a terracotta ladybird. My feet up, a book in my hand, making me laugh out loud.
I am also Flogging ma Blog on Friday with Grace from WithsomeGrace