Photo by Larry Mohr
When my mom sits in the living room, it’s always at the same corner of the couch, with an oversized ottoman handy for multiple purposes and an end table to set down her Pepsi or keep her glasses handy. And the dog, of course, is snug against her thigh.
One night, she said,
“I have to sweep under this footstool tomorrow. Dessert is accumulating.”
She had found her sweet spot—the place where she enjoyed a little treat every night and left a crumbly trail of indulgences.
She found her place to enjoy life and left evidence behind that she had. What a great lesson. Am I leaving behind evidence that I enjoy my life?
