simple observations

To me, simple things make me happy. I like when someone waves when I allow them to go first when driving or when the sunshine comes in my window at work. I find joy in watching little bear give himself a bath and how cute he looks when just wakes up.

But since I have already established that I enjoy the little things in life, I think now I want to talk about little things in a different light. As I sit here at 12:31 in the afternoon after only just waking up not even two hours ago I realize that I would not have done this had I been with my other half. Most Saturday morning I was up at the crack of dawn [and nagging, i mean politely] asking Sam to wake up and start the day with me. Whether it is the sub-conscience awareness that your actions at home on a Saturday morning have little affect on the rest of the world, let alone your significant other or if it just the slight hint of constant sadness that looms and dulls life just that little itty bitty amount I am not sure, but I certainly feel it. 

For example, the space between my bed and the sofa is about 3 feet wide. The vacuum that I used last Sunday has been occupying that space for the last week. When living with Sam, we had our own little system - I'd vacuum and he'd wrap the cord and stow it away. Is it my hope that he will travel 621 miles from Rochester to simply put the vacuum away for me? No, not really - that would be unreasonable, but something within me sticks to that thought like a dog on a mailman. 

Distance does make the heart grow fonder, but further more it challenges static life. People, in general, are comfortable with what they know. We find happiness, in most cases, with the pleasures we know will give us, well, pleasure and happiness. Change, therefore is less than pleasurable, for most. I remember my mom babysitting one child. He loathed anything that disrupted his schedule or altered what he knew as stable. This child's mom knew this and often talked about it with my mother about solutions to get away from this way of thinking. In a similar example, my father. About my father: 100% Italian - need I say more. The man despises change - on any level. As an example of his inability to change is the fact that he's taken the same days of vacation for the last 7 or so years. Every year he takes off the day before labor day weekend and a week in November to go hunting. He's combed his hair the same way since, oh, the beginning of time and absolutely does not try new foods. My mother on the other hand is just the opposite. She loves new things and is really, in every way the complete reverse of my dad. She is the exceptions and sadly, I must admit I follow more in way of my father rather than mother. 

In moving to Chicago, I have been asked by life to change. New home, new state, new job, new grocery store [ohhh, Wegmans how I miss thee] and a life without a readily available hugs from my soon-to-be husband, friends and most importantly family. 

To be honest I have not found the balance between these two yet, but I am looking.