Earlier this year, after declaring 2021 my year to delight, I read a delightful little book called, The Book of Delights, by Ross Gay. For an entire year, Ross sought to write a short essay about something that brought him delight. His rules were simple: "Write a delight every day for a year; begin and end on my birthday; draft them quickly; and write them by hand." The rules became a discipline for him. A practice to ensure he was thinking and writing about delight every day.
I was never a dog lover until we brought Harry home, and some days, I'm still not sure I am one. But after becoming a dog owner, I suddenly started noticing everyone else's dogs. It's like I acquired a new radar that allowed me to notice what I failed to take note of before. I believe the same might be true about delight. If I can make a conscious effort to seek delight in my days, I have a feeling I might find more of it.
The idea really came to light one Sunday afternoon over a bottle of barbecue sauce. Beau had smoked some spare ribs and about thirty minutes before it was time to eat, I checked the fridge only to realize we were out of barbecue sauce. I went to check the big pantry in our laundry room and what do you know, there was a perfectly unopened bottle of barbecue sauce. And a jar of minced garlic I had used up just before! I returned to the kitchen with a grin of utmost satisfaction, modeling the two unopened treasures I had discovered on my hunt. And I told Beau that few things make me feel more like a grown up then discovering a much-needed item from my pantry at the perfectly opportune time. Perhaps this is because I feel practically and efficient with my space and resources, or perhaps it's because in some small way, I still feel like a little girl playing house, stacking empty soup cans in my Fischer Price kitchen, taking care of the children, circling my daily outfit from the JC Penny catalog, and wondering what on earth I'd cook for dinner.
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