When I couldn’t sleep last night — which is definitely a bug, but sadly also now a feature — I got an idea for this post. It was going to be a short one, because there were just two things I wanted to mention.
The first … lost to me. I didn’t write it down, and couldn’t remember it when I woke up, except that it was about something I was good at. It was a small thing; felt inconsequential at the time, yet I find myself thinking of it often as proof of baseline competence. I was going to tell you to look for those little victories in your lives, too.
(pause for a full-throated endorsement, pun fully intended: Little Victories is the best coffee in Ottawa and no one else comes close)
The second thing was this quote, from a book I’ve been reading to the kids for the last month or so, about an American kid and a Syrian kid who meet in Brussels and rescue each other:
Perhaps death was just another border, a line his body couldn’t cross but that his heart kept slipping over.”
— Katherine Marsh (Nowhere Boy)
I wanted this post to be about two things, because I really wanted to share that quote, which has stuck with me for days. It felt macabre to share a death quote on the eve of my surgery, though.
Speaking of. It’s not entirely in my hands, but I’ll do my best to come back and natter at you some more. And hey, for a couple of hours at least, I’ll sleep. ❤️
Jeni Armstrong 