we can’t help but lean into
the relief.
the satiety
the satisfaction
because it feels so darn
natural.
if it didn’t
[feel natural]
we wouldn’t so graciously
slow with the energy…
“too many potato chips are bad”
“don’t eat too much pizza”
“only one scoop of ice cream”
“too many hugs can be, well too ‘much’”
but
the pasta tastes so good,
shared around a table with loves;
the wine, delicious, at the
end of the week, toasting life;
the brisk air feels invigorating,
snowflakes dancing off my face;
the warmth of a cat, heavenly snuggling
can’t get close enough.
the World tells us to
BE INDEPENDENT;
WE DON’T NEED ALL THE FEEL-GOODS
for we should be able to conjure them
ourselves.
?
but I tell myself
it’s okay to love thrifting trips;
it’s okay to love buying a cuppa coffee;
it’s good to interact with fellow
humans;
it’s even better to believe
in the magic.
we’re told life is electronic
and automatic (for the people)
and digital
and paperless
but we know better:
a letter saved,
written in her hand
is invaluable;
a receipt from the diner
from who-cares-when-because-
it-was-a-mind-bank-experience,
is, well, like digging up a diamond;
I know, attachment to physical
things is temporary
for they can eventually no longer be
but sitting in a rocking chair
where my great-grandmother once
rested;
cracking a crab with a wooden hammer
from my dad’s trips with Uncle Tom;
wearing a piece of costume jewelry
gratefully gifted
from Aunt Minnie;
all these things make up
the grand tapestry of our lives and
I think
stitch us together:
they are what make your story
yours
and my story
mine
and their story
theirs.
we light up
when we choose to.
we move
when we want to.
we breath in,
always together.
for ever —
cuz we have no other choice?
or because
we know better?
time will tell.
the passing of clouds will disperse
the snow will climb the lamppost
the squirrels will scurry
and the hummingbirds will visit.
and I will continue to observe
all of
the loveliness,
with bowed head and heartful
reverence
L.S. 2026
Hello, friends! An impending snowstorm is upon us, this January 23, 2026. Will we get 6″ or 26″? We know not. Regardless, I am eternally thankful for warmth and shelter and food –and toilet paper & milk. What crept into my brain tonight was that it’s ok to feel good and to like when you feel good. And it’s ok when simple things, well, expand and become what matters.
Wherever you are, hoping you are safe and warm. The photo was taken inside Faneuil Hall in Boston.
laurie sliben, writer 