Chess

"Look, I can take two of your pieces," Joe says. A leisure Sunday afternoon, Joe and I play chess. The big brown table a fortress beneath us, I lean, lean an elbow out to the middle.

"Huh," I say my bishop and rook now both kitty-corner to his pawn. "I guess your right," I say.

"Only gonna be able to move one of them," he says.

"Huh," I say. A little bit of knowledge and suddenly strategy arises from nothing. The awakening of the mind is such a grand affair. And in this case it cost me my bishop. Brilliant.

Gratitude:

6533. Resurrection Day came again with all the celebration and humility that it brings.

6534. Joe turned SIX. I relish his generous spirit.

6535. Coleslaw, the best coleslaw, the world over -- red cabbage, sweet onion, fists of basil, and lemon avocado mayo dressing. We eat it with pulled pork. Then the pulled pork runs out so we start eating it on nachos. Then the nachos run out so it's just chips and still transcendent.

6536. Fresh groceries, the kind that fill up a paper sack and they have to double bag it. Lemons and cabbage and basil and mustard and ginger ale and cheddar and oranges and a mechanical pencil and lead. Perfection.

6537. The children have another art lesson and continue to progress in their artwork.

6538. The older four kids join a Toastmasters club. The first meeting leaves them chattering with excitement.

6539. Two beautiful baby wraps come to live at our house.

6540. I make elderberry syrup and turmeric golden milk from scratch.

6541. Craig and I squeeze in a date. We arrive at the movie theatre to find the film started 30 minutes ago. We have a mid-afternoon lunch together instead.

6542. The days gradually grow warmer if still wet. Signs of spring appear. Tiny green cotyledons poke through the ground and begin the new cycle of gardening. The yearly liturgy of seasons lulls us with it's familiar face.