the city houses life. we walk up broadway to get to the opera house. this house holds members of our family who give their days to put beauty on display because it matters – beauty and art and the city – it matters.
we stop before picking up tickets and there are reindeer stationed at the entrance. we ask if they are santa’s actual reindeer? we’re told they are backups. if someone gets sick or something, then these guys get called in.
and i watch the lights of the city look down on us, one small family going to the ballet in detroit. we don’t make much difference, we’re just living our lives – but if the beauty matters, then the life we live, it must matter, too?
like a blog post written on a monday morning or a pizza made from scratch with friends on a saturday night. like words said from the pulpit on sunday morning or stopping by with soup in a jar.
all the small moments that can be overlooked or not undertaken, they matter. and maybe the smaller and more wrought with beauty they are, the greater their worth?
yes. i can feel that it is so. even if the late night tells me otherwise, and i despair that the small and beautiful doesn’t make any difference – this morning, with the light coming in through the windows, i remember the moments that make a good life.
my mother’s house
family on thanksgiving
fresh kielbasa from dearborn
discarded cotton candy
sleeping in tights and leotards
eleanor’s first nutcracker
popcorn on the stove
great, great grandma maria’s pizza recipe
god giving me words
kind encouragement from a stranger
my father, the reverend
sisters fighting and loving in the same breath
a new vacuum