Little m Long a

Karma

I thought I might spread a little bit of good karma. You know, do something altruistic.

I only needed an hour.

I paid for 5.

So that the person happening upon the spot after I had left it might have a little gift.  A little something to make their day just a tad brighter.

I guess snapping a picture and broadcasting my intentions pretty much eliminated any altruistic benefits from the gesture.

Maybe the karma will stick.

Zella is our very own Anton Ego.

“I don’t like that.”

Her typical critique offered at almost every meal.

Regardless.

There’s no go-to meal with the kid.  One day she might ask for seconds or even thirds of a serving of Mac and Cheese.  The next time you serve it — nothing.

“What part don’t you like, Zella?” Ive asked.

(And then making a gesture with her tiny little arm she starts at the top of the plate,) “From here … (and in a sweeping motion brings the arm across the plate to the bottom) … “to here!”

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Every once in a while we we stumble upon tiny glimpses of our past.  Little bits and pieces of heritage and history.  Answers to why.  Snippets that account for what.

Forgotten artifacts carelessly tossed in a corner of the attic.  An old coat or shirt dry rotting on a hanger in the back of the closet.  Dismantled or broken appliances, furniture or toys.

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The alarm was telling me that it was 5:30 am.  I didn’t believe it.  “No freaking way,” I mumbled.  I gave it another chance to convince me.  In fact, I gave it five more chances to convince me.

At 5:30 am there is time to prepare coffee.

Time to check the weather or stare at an empty in-box.  Save for the reminders from my Google calendar that I have nothing to do today.  At least I’ve got all day to do it.

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