2021, A new year
May you spend your year
noticing the magic
in the little things,
in the broken things,
like the dandelion growing in the cracked pavement,
like the hole the bug chewed out of the banana leaf into a perfect heart shape,
like the shy smile that lasts just a few seconds,
just like the new coffee mug that broke and became the favorite little planter.
May you spend your year
living intentionally
even the little things,
especially with the broken things,
like multilingual invitations and practicing unfamiliar words until dinner is burned,
like knowing who you are in the moments you’re exactly who you hope to be,
like Christmas presents wrapped and unwrapped and wrapped perfectly again,
or like being on time because you don’t want to help anxiety have her holding her breath and counting seconds like years.
May you spend your year
with someone who, with many who,
notice you like magic,
and your little things,
even the broken things,
like the way you prefer to eat all foods with your fingers,
like the way you gasp in fear when you’re woken, even gently,
like the way you can find home inside most people and make home out of most things,
and like the promise of kisses, or lessons, at Midnight on New Year’s Eve.
May you spend your year
living intentionally,
even the little things,
especially with the broken things,
like driving around the block because you’re early trying so hard not to be late,
like loving yourself in the moments you are too ashamed to lift your eyes to a mirror,
like extra preparation for vegetarian guests for recipes that never had meat anyway,
like understanding magic has been mostly intention in caring relationship all along.
May you spend your year
noticing the magic
in the little things,
in the broken things,
living intentionally,
in caring relationship,
even the little things,
especially with the broken things,
like
like
like
like praying with friends who used to be strangers.
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