Gratitude

She sits on a small, wooden chair in the hall,
a silent, knowing smile on her soft face.
She exudes an air of being
comfortable, self-assured and confident
while simultaneously gentle, accepting, respectful.
Sometimes I forget she’s there,
she never makes any fuss either way and I can get so busy and fretful.
But she remains happily seated – unperturbed, at ease.
She demands nothing and delights in everything.
The littlest moment lights up her face.
A butterfly dancing daintily on the breeze,
the musical tinkling of wind chimes,
the scent of freshly cut grass,
a moment of calm and quiet and heartfelt peace.
She notices them all, delights in them all.
I run frantically around, blind and deaf.
My noisy busyness distracts me,
such that I unwittingly ignore her reassuring presence
and invite into my home the loud, chaotic unrest of
dissatisfaction, irritation, ire and frustration and most distracting of all,
fear.
But she doesn’t mind.
She waits patiently until the day I remember again,
when I pass by in the hall and spot her and realize she’s been there all along.
There’s no rebuke, no cold shoulder or hurt feelings.
She just smiles at me and I can feel her joy filling up my heart with a deep peace and happiness.
I pause a moment and then I seat myself on the second chair alongside her
and I breathe into my soul her quiet rest,
her thanks for this moment and all the moments
that have gone before and are yet to come.
Together we sit for a while.
My noisy guests gradually leave of their own accord.
Life suddenly seems full of vibrant colour and perfect beauty, alive with the sound of birds singing and the hum of a passing car and the loving thump-thump of my heartbeat.
She catches my eye with a grin.
“You can have all this any time you wish,” she says softly. “Just remember me!”