Three Years

This one may be a little Debby downer, but I hope you celebrate with me.

To be completely honest, I didn’t know if I wanted to write this week’s blog or not. If I had known that when I started this that December 8th was a Thursday, I may have picked another day to post these. But, we can call it divine intervention. 

**This is ironic because it’s actually Friday when this publishes because this week has been bonkers.

December 8th is a hard day. It’s a day where grief comes in soft waves, interchanging with sweet nostalgia and time reflected. As I sit and write, it’s hard to deflect emotions, disregarding loss. So why not just sit? Sit and feel. It isn’t something I do well or often, but I will today. 

Siti was a woman of small celebrations. She lived a life where small, joyous moments were always enough. Her love and actions reflected ingenuity but were never performative.

Everyone was welcome in her presence. 

The little things that make me think of you. 

The aroma of baked goods in the oven. 

Jeopardy. 

Josh Groban? 

Walking into HEB, Sprouts, or any middle eastern store. 

Kind deeds. 

Soap Operas. 

Fig trees. 

The faint smell of cigarettes.

Old pianos. 

Grapevines (the plant, not the dance move). 

Rosewater.

Using my hands.

Freshly baked bread. 

Thanking God. 

Rosaries. 

Sharing meals with friends. 

Mason jars. 

Canasta. 

Church bells. 

community theatre performance circa 2017

I see her now in the ways I celebrate small life moments with others. She always taught by example, whether she was aware or not. Giving away baked goods, sending a friend a meal in a mason jar. Listening. Bringing a deck of cards to school. Doing my best to love everyone around me with my words and actions. 

With love,

Cara