THANKFUL FRIDAY
Cindy Maddera
Each morning during my walk with Josephine, I take a moment to practice some flash photography. I am learning. I find it to be pleasantly challenging and humbling because I end up taking so many crap pictures. Sometimes I even post the crap pictures. It’s important to me to show the crap pictures. There is an honesty in showing them. This practice in making my own light is making a difference and not just with my photography. This was a dark week for me. I have been hearing stories from others. We are all struggling. We all suffer from pandemic fatigue and the added strain of keeping ourselves and our families healthy. I follow some pretty great women in social media and I have read their stories of stress. Everyone of them follow up with a reminder to find the goodness and joy in the day.
There was a schedule change this week and I ended up not going to the office on Thursday and Friday. I spent the first half of Thursday doing a thorough scrubbing of the house. I pulled down the curtains and threw them in the washer. Then I started in the kitchen, wiping down cabinets and walls. I moved to the bathroom where I crawled on the floor to clean behind the toilet. I dusted every surface of every room. I moved the couch and tackled cleaning the windows. There was about two inches of dirt on the window that I had been ignoring. Every winter you can feel cold air blowing in through these windows and we always end up sealing them up with that shrink wrap plastic stuff. I went through four rags and almost all of the multipurpose cleaner removing all of the dirt. I put new covers on the couch, swept, vacuumed and hung the clean curtains.
I woke up the next morning to a cold house and a stuffy nose. For a minute, I indulged in the idea of not walking the dog, but I rolled out of bed and bundled up. Josephine and I went on our walk and I had no intention of stopping for a photo. My fingers were numb with cold and I just wanted to get our walk done. But on our way home, I stopped at the house that grows all the dahlias every year. They’re still blooming, still bright and fluffy. They won’t be for much longer. Soon the man who grows them will dig them all up to be stored in his basement until next year. So I paused.
As I continued with my day, I noticed a little lift in the darkness. I took note of the actions I use to console myself. Putting the things I can control in order, soothes me. Pausing to admire the last of this season’s dahlias, brightens me. Working on a new skill, empowers me. All of these things make me stronger and lighter.