Little Things Mean A Lot
|This is harder to do than it looks.|
Tell me, since when did I become this old person who can't have a busy day without feeling destroyed by it? Add to that fact that I still have Brian's lovely illness, an illness whose symptoms increase the more tired I am, and I feel as though I have one foot in the grave already.
Have I mentioned how much I am going to miss my departing neighbors? The woman is my buddy from this humiliating trip to Harris Teeter. I refer to her as my personal trainer, because she would show up at my front door 2 or 3 times a day to invite me to walk a mile around the neighborhood. I always accepted, because I can't let an 80-year-old woman best my not-even-50-yet self in the physical fitness department.
Sometimes? I had trouble keeping up with her.
Moral of this meandering blog post: It's the little things we do that matter. Don't pass up a chance to do the little things. Don't expect that someone else will think to do them. You know, my neighbors really appreciated the party we gave them. That mattered, too, much more than I had thought it would.
[Fruit bowl image: Taste of Home]
[Little things image: Sodahead]