I hope today is filled with music and dancing.
I hope you start the morning with your favorite song and I hope you have the kind of breakfast that fills your tummy and your heart. That kind of cozy and nutritious combination that reminds you how much a good meal can change things. I hope you spend at least an hour doing something you love – even if that hour is stolen time, listening to your favorite podcast on your commute.
I hope you laugh today, not just that polite laugh reserved for coworkers or casual acquaintances, but that kind of full belly, unexpected laugh that comes when something is so unexpectedly funny and joyous you can’t help but feel it in your sides. I hope that if that laugh comes from the visit of a distance memory from two years ago, you let it in and you laugh even if you’re sitting alone in your kitchen.
I hope you read something beautiful. I don’t care if it’s poetry, fiction, or an encyclopedia. I hope you read something that makes you heart feel something, that inspires your mind to learn more, that makes you want to dig into this world in a deeper more meaningful way.
I hope you compose one love letter today, even if it’s just to yourself, even if you only write it in the recess of your mind, filing it between that laugh-til-you-cry story and the embarrassing memory of tripping in the parking lot at your high school graduation.
I hope when the sun starts to tuck behind the trees, you cling onto the last bits of day, dancing in that sunshine even if winter winds whip your face. I hope you learn to love that flustered pink tint that lands on your cheeks after too many hours in the cold.
I hope you make hot chocolate from scratch, the kind that leaves a moustache of foam on your upper lip or a sticky glob of melted marshmallow between your teeth. I hope when the day has left entirely, and the stars take their moment, you dive into the night without fear or hesitancy.
I hope you put on a record that makes you smile or a song that makes you cry or a soundtrack that you put all the way up while you wash the dishes and splash the soap bubbles on someone you love. I hope you can curl up with a notebook or a sketchpad and spend ten minutes illustrating your day through scratchy letters or scratchy lines. I hope you can settle into the night with the comfort of a day well-lived.
I hope you always remember how it feels to turn on the tea kettle and light your favorite candle, to remember that comfort is a conscience decision. I hope you lean into that.
I hope today was nice for you.
And if it wasn’t.
I hope you try again tomorrow.
Love always,
Liz
