I tend to return from a trip home to see my parents with a certain loneliness. It’s sad to go back to my empty apartment, listening to the roar of the freeways instead of the wind rustling in the trees. My laptop is warm on my knees, but not as cozy as our dog curled at my side. It can be a bit hard to pull out of this funk because I miss my parents, miss my home, and am floundering on my own right now. I miss the security and companionship and comfort of home.
Yesterday I decided, in order to help myself feel a little more upbeat, I would make and send some Easter packages to my brothers, who are now both away from our home for the first time. I had the best of intentions and picked out things to remind them of our childhood Easter baskets and the excitement of that morning. I even spent the better part of the afternoon tracking down ingredients and testing recipes for some cookies one had asked our mom for. I didn’t make it to the post office. I couldn’t find packaging tape. I made some gross cookies before getting the right recipe from our Grandma and making some good ones. And I felt like a failure. My good intentions and high hopes were ruined and I couldn’t pull it all together. I was disappointed and saddened, but amidst this, little things brightened my day.
I have come to really, really enjoy PassiveAggressiveNotes.com. A lot. My best friend introduced me to it, ironically, after we reminisced about how we lived with a girl in college who only communicated through rude post-it notes. Now I love checking in on the stellar communication skills demonstrated on the site. As I struggled to haul my bags up to my apartment, I was greeted by a wonderful example of my own:
The envelope was clearly one sent for returning an invoice or something else to a sender. The ample scotch tape is classic. I love that someone else saw the note and decided to add, in different writing and ink, who the note was “From:” And the kicker is the paper towels, torn up and tucked inside! I should have been disgusted, for sure, and probably annoyed with my neighbors. But I was tickled! I laughed out loud and, clearly, felt the need to photograph it. I loved it! This literally made my day.
Then I dyed eggs. I have no one to hide them for, no one to hide them for me. I will probably not get around to eating all of them before they go bad. But I realized that I had not dyed eggs since I was in high school, and I desperately wanted to. So I bought some vinegar and a cheap dye kit and got to work. I wish I could say that they were stunning. They should be artistic, impressive, something far superior to those of my youth. Martha has taught me better than this. But they were nothing special, nothing exciting.
Yes, I cracked some eggs boiling them. No, they were not spectacular. But they made me so happy. Knowing that they are sitting in my fridge makes me happy even now. I am excited for egg salad sandwiches next week, because that’s part of Easter, but I’m also sad to think about the fact that once these are gone, my eggs will be white again.
I’ve tried to find little things to make my day because the big ones seem to be few and too far between. While creeping on a friend’s facebook page, I saw that one of her friends recommended a blog to her. The title sounded promising, so I browsed through it. I now love it. I loved the pictures first, because I wish I could take good photos. And I wish I had beautiful little girls to dress up. Now I love reading the posts, hearing her thoughts, sometimes nearly my own, sometimes very far from them. I highly recommend a look at Enjoying the Small Things. If nothing else, it brings a smile and reminds me to keep looking for the little moments, the things that make days good.
Until the big things come along with some certainty, the little things will have to do. And that’s okay, because big things can be overwhelming and confusing. I’m not sure what I will do with a new job or relationship or home. I am sure that my Easter eggs make me smile. For today, in this tiny moment, that is enough to be sure of.
“Human felicity is produced not as much by great pieces of good fortune that seldom happen as by little advantages that occur every day.” –Benjamin Franklin