Gravy

I love any gravy. Be it bacon, sausage, chicken, beef, tomato, squirrel, white or brown gravy, I will slather my food with it. Gravy is a lot like how life should be to me.

I am sitting here on the back porch of my sister’s and brother-n-laws wonderful home. A home she has so graciously invited me into as I am homeless. Well, I don’t feel homeless, but by definition I probably am. I am just so thankful for the loving kindness she is graced with. I love her dearly as I know she loves me. Although my once running of the washing machine at 4:00 a.m. may have put a dent in it.

This spot I get to sit at is close to heaven on earth. The birds play and the squirrels rustle around hustling up nuts and twigs like commandos. The wind slithers through the leaves with the softness of high cotton. The peace I feel here would make Buddha smile a crack into his statue.

Sometimes in life we feel gravy withdrawal. I miss my three little gravy trains. They mean the world to me, but what I can’t control, I leave to those that can. Things I took for granted (like writing and post this blog) are no longer taken for granted. I have learned to be more mindful and appreciate the biggest Gravy Train in the universe. His gravy covers it all, and I am thankful to be slathered in it.

Side note: I a plan on doing a Live Action Report on the band “Fletcher.” I hope to catch their show in Cleveland tomorrow.

 

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