Tranquility...

I could be in a scene from a movie. Here I sit on the floor of my parents' great room, covered in a handmade blanket (my sister Abbie is the crafty one in our family), and sipping on pumpkin spice coffee. Between the warmth of my coffee and the heat from the crackling fire next to me, I am very cozy. The house is silent except for the dryer that is spinning yet another load of clean laundry. My mind is silent, too. No thoughts are racing through my head, my heart beats at a steady pace, and tranquility seems to have washed over me. Today I don't feel like getting too deep into my thoughts, I will let them rest until tomorrow. It's moments like this that I realize how lucky I am. To have a cozy home filled with loving family to visit, to be doing exactly what I want to do every single day, and to simply be alive. I take a deep breath and air fills my lungs as a smile appears on my face. 

Is it truly luck though? It seems inappropriate to say that "luck" has gotten me where I am right now. Luck is something that shows up when you barely miss hitting a deer (from that phrase you can tell that I am from Michigan). Luck should not take the credit; but maybe credit does not need to be given at all. I'm okay with that. My mug is empty and the flames are dying down...time for a refill and another piece of wood on the fire. 

Today I am in a fog. A good fog, though. My last couple of days here have shown up, and I feel as though I am floating around with a constant smile on my face, soaking up every bit of my surroundings. In a little bit I will help my dad with a new creation that he's decided to make while my mom's out of the house. All I know is that it involves pineapple, ramekins, and a torch. I am confident it will be delicious, but definitely want to witness the making of it. I hear my grandma walking around in her bedroom, which was my childhood bedroom until she moved in. Since the passing of my grandpa in November, she has been living here with my parents; a better alternative to stale assisted living care. Although having her here changes every single situation, I know my dad is grateful to be the one to take care of his mother. Anyway, his concoction, I just found out, is creme brulee. We just whipped it together and now it sits in the oven for about an hour. So here I sit again, by the fire with our dog, Leva, laying at my side. I've had about as much coffee as my stomach can handle. I hear the dryer beep, letting me know my clothes are dry. Time to wrap up today's mindless blog...and possibly get just one more cup of coffee.