Monday Morning Commute

This morning I woke and promised to start the day with purposeful joy. I allowed myself to sleep in for ten more minutes just for the deliciousness of the experience. I woke my daughter, fed her the breakfast of her choosing, chock full of sugary sweet bad-for-you-ness and smiled with her as she savored it. I bicycled my precious child and two tubs full of recyclable materials down the street. Thankfully, I only spilled the plastics and not my more precious cargo. I got the opportunity to see how strong my little girl has become when she held the bicycle steady while I gathered and reattached the wayward milk jugs and fruit containers to our family bike. She then climbed back aboard and we finished our commute to school. She said, "I am trying not to compare the smell of gasoline burning from the cars with the smell of the flowers," and I realized how aware she is of the juxtaposition of two scents among the many in our neighborhood. Bacon and greasy potato breakfasts mingle with cumulative cigarette smoke dancing with laundry detergent steaming from the dryer vents and car exhaust fighting with the delight of the blossoming trees and flowers. It's a wonder we don't find ourselves overwhelmed by it all. But instead, we let it all wash over us, with joy; and in a way, we are overwhelmed, but we move with such grace, balanced on two wheels.