Reduction

By your forty-somethings, you've tried quite a lot. Books and bars, roadtrips with mixtapes, delicacies with extra legs, degrees, fundraisers with aprons, fitness programs, color swatches, knives, briefs, thongs, hair cuts, jobs, mentors and mentees, rivals and friends. Sometimes the approach was with the point of a toothpick, sometimes running headlong with two buckets swinging. This year, just before Christmas, you decide Santa cannot possibly come unless this room is truly cleaned. That means sorting. And tossing. Of course, Mr. Bear-Bear is a keeper, as well as the 1970's dollhouse passed down from Gung-Gung's generosity. But it's a start. Reduction.

After my job running federally-funded energy programs became "unstimulated", my life got reduced to the best of necessities. I was given the gift of meaningful time with the kids and hubby plus a new, spartan, laundry-when-you-need-it attitude along with the no-frills-groceries budget. Limitation became freedom. And I decided I was in no rush now to refill my clean life-fridge with containers of imperceptible and inedible food. 
I chose carefully. Slowly. I prioritized running 3 times a week. I delayed making house repairs. I played the guitar. My checkbook went unbalanced. We never overdrew. It was ok. I sent no Christmas cards that year. Not even an e-card. I gave away 10 gingerbread house kits to families with whom I had a moment to truly interact. Not too deep. Just real.  It was enough.

So much life has been poured into my saucepan. Lumps of fat, rare spice, organic grains, party leftovers, assorted bones. The faces, the sweat, the sidewalks, the applause, the expectations all bending in tune like guitar strings, each on their assigned interval. A hundred facades of buildings smoke past my side mirror but I am moving straight ahead. At the very least, I can slow down. Then those ghosts might breathe again. And the spirit of all that life find its peace, its place. Like the resolving chord in the First Act Quintet. Like a sauce simmered all day, to half. Nourishment without regret.