I have learned that this is how life goes. Heavy and light, fast and then slow. I'm not holding on too tightly, not to the heavy, and not to the light. I am trusting God to hold onto me.
Tonight, I arrived home and found myself exhausted. The day had been productive and fun. I'd had coffee with a new friend and gotten a letter in the mail. I was sore from dance class, days before, and I couldn't keep my eyelids from dipping.
I drew a bath.
My boxes are still semi-packed around me. My life is uncertain as it was yesterday. There are so many things that I probably should have been doing. But I did not do them. Instead, I poured myself a glass of wine and settled into a warm tub. It's been months since I've even considered it.
I was sighing appreciatively, reveling in the warmth of the water, the quiet and the stillness of my body, when I saw it.
She was perched on the porcelain, looking on. I am not a fan of spiders, so you may be surprised to learn that I did not scream, or immediately exit the bathtub. I was that tired. Instead, I watched her movements and continued to sip my wine.
It is likely that I have never spent as much time watching a spider as I did this evening. She walked toward me, very small, and paused every now and then. As she paused, she raised her front legs (arms?) toward me. It looked, for all the world, as though she was pronouncing a blessing upon me.
I finished my wine and let the water out. As I did, she plunged into it, floating down the drain and into the unknown adventures awaiting her.
I smiled a little, as I watched her go.