What I’m thankful for

It is February, and I should perhaps be writing about flowers and love letters and soft music. But it’s been a long and hard day and flowers and love letters and music are the farthest things from my mind. In the quiet of my room I sit in silence for a while, looking at the flowers embroidered on the duvet cover. How pretty they are. I decide to find something to wrap — it is my own tiny but sure way of making the day go down easier. There is something comforting about choosing and touching pretty paper, the way I am able to crease and fold them crisp and straight here and there, the pale blue grosgrain ribbon that is predictably and dependably gorgeous always, the knowing that good thoughts and wishes are attached to it as I send it out.

At day’s end, whatever we do — whether we succumb to the pleasure of a long shower, eat a bowl of hearty soup, hide under the sheets, or, like me now, choose to spend a bit of time wrapping a gift first before I do all of the above — we are never alone. We bring with us friends and colleagues and conversations we had, all the stresses and stressors, the joys (some constant, some fleeting), the meals (the crispy pata I had for lunch was a highlight of the day!); yes, even the traffic and all the musings that go through our minds while stuck in it.

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