Some people get issued ladles,
chef spoons, hefty scoops or
diamond-studded shovels.
But me? I got the tiny spoon.
As years go by,
the givens in my life
include an increasing number
of not-givens,
limiting my reach.
But I’m learning to love
living my life like this,
not large,
but small.
Little by little
I am losing my appetite
for consumption,
for accumulation,
for saying yes when I mean no,
for joining the crowd and
going where I don’t want to go,
for thinking I’m missing out
if I can’t throw myself on
every thrill-ride and amusement
at the parking-lot carnival of life.
Now I find my desire
is to taste deeply just this one,
single-serving of life
that is mine,
to eat it with a tiny spoon,
aware of smaller things.
I’m quite sure
when the feast of life is over
I will not regret
I didn’t get to gorge on
every cone of cotton candy
at the carnival,
every dish on life’s
all-you-can-eat buffet.
I will have no regrets
as long as I have
paid attention
with all my senses
to the small moments
given just to me,
sipping up my life
with my tiny spoon:
Looking up from my work
to catch the dots of sunlight
dancing on the wall,
reflecting off that
giant disco ball
I’ve hung outside…
feeling the warm mist
rising from my first
cup of tea in the morning
like a kiss on the eyes…
and those rare
mere moments
that stop time
and last forever—
seeing that color-blur hummingbird
whirring over a blossom
and fusing, blending into,
touching into Oneness with it…
and Everything That Is.
Ann Keiffer
January, 2022
Image Credit: Digital Collage by Ann Keiffer
