Writing in a Waiting Room and Being Glad for It

There are times when I love to write somewhere other than my office. That usually means a coffeehouse or somewhere outside, a place that shakes up how I work.

Today, that place is the Honda dealer in White Bear Lake, Minnesota. Having my car serviced and waiting for it here means I can be in one quiet place for an hour and a half where I can’t get up and wander into the kitchen for another Christmas cookie. (Looks around – is it possible they have cookies in this waiting area? Ah, no.) I like the change of venue, like that there are a couple of other women here also working on their laptops, a few men scrolling through their phones, and no one watching television. So grateful not to have a television blaring news right this minute. And I have a very nice service rep named Austin who has little waxed ends upturned on his old-school mustache.

As December slips toward the winter solstice, my thoughts are all over the place: holidays, end of the year, what went well in 2023, what I’m looking forward to, what I’m worried about. Making New Year’s resolutions isn’t a thing I do anymore; truthfully, I never really did make them. Change is too constant to limit it to the New Year. Rather, I find myself remembering small moments that made me say thank you every day. Right now, I’m saying thank you for this bright, clean space where I’m waiting, this comfortable chair, the holiday music that’s not too loud. Yesterday, I said thank you for finding Christmas presents for my daughter and daughter-in-law, followed by dinner out and a really nice conversation with my partner. Such ordinary things, you might think. Yes, but I wouldn’t be doing any of them if I lived in a war zone or if my home had just been hit by a tornado.

Last night, I had a restless night. Lots of unsettling dreams have drifted into a cloud in the back of my mind this morning. The details are slipping away in the light of this bright day, but the feeling that I was in danger in my dreams, that nothing was solid, hovers. Maybe this is the result of my news habit, or that I read crime novels right before bed, or that I’m worried about what the looming new year holds for the next presidential election in the U.S. Whatever the reason for those unsettling dreams, they are a reminder that we have less control over our lives than we care to admit. Our situations, no matter what they are, are temporary. Given that, gratitude for what is going well, what offers beauty in this moment, is a practice that serves me well.

So, today, from this waiting room next to a garage, I want to give ordinary miracles their due. Here are just a few recent things:

• ice that outlines each spent stalk in the garden as if the stems are now encased in brilliant glass
• afternoon sun through the kitchen window that creates a halo around my partner’s head while he fills a water glass
• magenta streaks across the winter sky when I come out of Target after a late-afternoon run for groceries
• how the next-door neighbor’s dog faces our kitchen window to watch for us every morning when she’s outside; how she howls along sometimes when she hears my partner play his saxophone through our closed windows
• how our two-year-old granddaughter repeats the last thing we said whenever we stop talking
• the Minneapolis skyline when flocks of birds swoop overhead just before sunset and their wings glint in the fading light
• a full moon that rises in front of me as I drive home from the grocery store
• an owl hooting on an early morning walk around our neighborhood and how it flies away toward the east before we can get a closer look
• candlelight that makes dark winter evenings feel magical
• the smell of cookies baking, vegetables roasting, coffee brewing, bread baking, or stew simmering
• having a recipe turn out just right
• unexpected hugs
• hearing someone say I’m happy

Austin just gave me an update on my car: filters that were replaced, oil changed, tires rotated, probably new tires needed next year, a little sediment in the brake fluid but nothing unusual. Another thing to say thank you for: someone who tunes up my car when needed. Time to pack up the laptop, put on my coat, and head back out into the winter sunshine.

Peace to all.