I want to appreciate the smallest things that tell the biggest stories.
I want to be grateful for the little annoyances that remind me of my overabundance of blessing.
I want to write an ode to dust bunnies.
-to the small, annoying balls of dust that remind me I have a space to clean.
- a house to live in, a family to love, and a floor to sweep.
-and a cat that sheds and food to spill and a floor to mop.
More than what most people have is what I get to sweep a couple times a week because the dust bunnies collect in the corner of my family's living room.
The dust bunnies remind me that the space I cohabitate with my family is full. The corners that don't house the dust are crowded with laughter and the ceiling edges that don't welcome cobwebs are the constant witnesses of our friday night kitchen floor dance sessions.
There's more than enough space here for the dust bunnies, too. The house seems to expand with every day as the memories it holds grow too big to be bound by its walls. The dust bunnies seem smaller and less significant as the people in the house grow older with more life behind them.
The dust bunnies remind me that I have no choice but to be thankful--
--thankful for the space, the home, the people, the warmth, and the simple joys that sometimes feel like too much.
This ode to dust bunnies is my ode to the new year, anticipating blessings great and small and thankful for them all.
