Thanks, little fly.

This morning we sat in Common Grounds, looking out on the harbor with rocks and early season fishermen. The floor and the tables and wooden and don’t match, the window is open and breezy cold and good. Something caught my eye in the sill – a little fly flitting around. At first I thought it was buzzing stubbornly against the screen, full of spring life and peskiness. But on second glance, it’s just a crispy former-fly, flitting about because it’s light and the breeze is gusty.

It’s a silly thing, a little dead fly that’s acting like a living fly. But it made me happy to think that it lived its whole life (even a short, fly life) and then got a bonus waltz with the wind afterward.

I’m thinking of it this way: if we put ourselves in the right environments, surround ourselves with the company of good and lively people, then even when we’re feeling dull or lost, we still get whisked along, still participate in liveliness despite ourselves. It’s okay to let the wind carry you sometimes; just fold up your legs and go with it until you’re ready to take over again. At least it won’t be boring.

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