Always this body of mine aches, shoveling snow, skiing, dancing until the wee hours, hunger from the work, or standing all day at the bar. Perhaps it sounds like I'm complaining, but I'm not. It's these aches that make me aware of living inside a body, let me know I'm not just head and heart, but muscle and sinew as well. Some how all of these pieces fit together to make this being. It's good to be reminded of these individual parts, of the way they work together. Although I ache, I have relief unlike a good portion of the world. I have a bed to rest these bones and food to fill the rumble in my stomach. Those things that could be complaints are in reality a reminder of the gifts I've been given.
This week has had a few moments when I needed to remind myself that this life is good. Theoretically I know it is, but I've been missing the familiar a bit lately. It's in these moments I find myself needing to adjust my concept of what is familiar. If feels a bit strange now to have a conversation only in English and I find Italian words slipping in when I stop paying attention. I know in a few short months my phone calls will suddenly mean mess and speck and brei sandwiches won't always be a few steps away. In a few months my life will suddenly be consumed with the activities of being a somewhat conventional adult. And maybe in these moments I'll yearn for the familiarity of waking up to a mountain view, of pasta at nearly every meal, and a house filled with the rest of the world.
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