“I love you,” my daughter said to her husband in the kitchen as she left for work one morning. It sounded as sincere as it was casual, and I thought about how that ordinary adieu is uttered thousands of times across our decades.
Love on the lips of the habitual is so familiar we can miss it. We hear it and keep walking because nothing is out of place, no wind has kicked up dust or moved the furniture. A routine “I love you” is a tender embryo of the sacred surrounded by the silt of the everyday ordinary.
That is how it is with the ordinary sacred, like the one small rock with a fossil etched on it amidst thousands of rocks on the shore. But it is there all the time and always has been.
We have a large Charlotte living in the rafters of the porch. She comes out at night to weave her web........