I find that I am rather interested in statistics these days.
I find that I revel in, still-and-ever-and-always, a good, steady, penetrating rain.
I find a yearning for balance, to be able to slam shut certain doors in my the tunnels of my brain. I find myself fumbling for a pause button, the kind on my cassette deck that used to respond with an audible, satisfying "click."
I find an instant sense of fear and shrinking when faced with the grand possibilities I've always desired. I'd like to change that instinct.
I find extra padding on my backside (how'd that get there?).
I find that I'm not too crazy about Merguez sausage.
I find a glaring disdain for the clutter around me. I want to throw all excess on a pyre and shoot a flaming arrow into its center, and then roast some marshmallows and good sausages over it (but not Merguez, of course).
I find a renewed love for one of summer's finest fruits, the peach. I sigh a little at the season's end.
I find the days of summer whizzing past my face way too quickly.
I find a motherly sort of adoration for the plants in my shade garden out back. I talk to my ferns, hostas and vines and try to encourage them that this season, too, shall pass.
I find sheer joy in the renewal of a faithful old kitchen (mom and dad's), the smooth, virgin surface of fresh hardwood and the sheen of pretty copper pipes. I find even more joy in the joy (transl: giddiness) that it brings to my parents whom I fiercely love.
I find that going to a party where I know no one still scares the daylights out of me. My heart beats in my temples and my blood runs to my toes. And then humanity proves itself fine one more time, and I wonder why I wonder that there are such good people, everywhere. I mean, they're crawling from the cracks!
I find that I feel older. Especially in the hip area when I run. This, I do not like.
I find that I giggle to myself a lot.
I find that singing three part harmony still emits shivers and visible bumps to all extremities of my body.
I find that being in the kitchen centers me like almost nothing else can, and I still cheer at the prospect of running my knife swiftly through a Vidalia, then at hearing its sizzle when it hits the fat in the pan.
I find deep gratitude for person-to-person connection.
I find that all of these things that I find are just a tiny part of the glory of who I was made to be, and how very particularly I was crafted, though I might not feel exactly "glorious" most times. I am all tangled up in them; they are me, I am them, whether I like it or not.
I find that when I pull myself up by some good-lookin' bootstraps, slick on some gloss and smack myself around a little bit, I can feel all brand new.