My
mornings begin with what I can control. An alarm set for 7:15 AM to remind me
to take medications. Rain or shine. Summer or winter. Weekday or weekend. I
arise with a routine that sets the tone of my life. I write with pen and paper
into my journal or sit before the blank page of my computer for the next hour,
maybe two. Some days my thoughts get shared through a poem or personal
narrative. Sometimes my private words stay tucked away. My choice on what to
publish allows me an element of control.
By
8:30 each morning, my day shifts outdoors. Rain or shine. Sumer or winter.
Weekday or weekend. I section the yards and gardens into concrete, manageable goals
that I can accomplish on my own. This spring and summer, I am purchasing new
plants and flowers on Monday mornings. My tight budget means I hunt for
neglected and reduced items in the garden sections of HEB, Walmart and Home
Depot. Each morning I check for growth; and I rejoice with a new tendril, bud,
or bloom. My care comforts me and lets me feel as though I have control when a
plant grows enough to propagate into another pot.
Yesterday,
I trimmed the hedges out front in anticipation of a larger project—repainting the
front porch, back porch and hot tub surround. I know the amount of work
required as I’ve done this refresh on my own for years. I will tackle a known
entity to allow myself a sense of purpose and control when so many other events
in our world spin into chaos. My days with paint brush in hand will allow me to
focus on what is right before me.
I cannot change who and what they
are. This realization wounds me every single day.
And
so, my energy gets spent on the things I can control. My concentration stays on
the people I can protect. My mornings begin at 7:15 AM . . .
Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
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