By the sound of the knock on my door, strong, steady and sure, I knew it was Annie.
Tilting her head to the side she said, "I thought you had died. I haven't seen you in over a week. You know you spoil me with your daily visits…. so if I do not see you, well, then I start to think in my head– certainly she must be dead."
"I am here," I said as I hugged her, apologized, then said, "Wait until you see the inside of my house. You won't believe it but you will understand where I have been."
She said, "Oh! Why did you paint it or change something?" But as soon as I opened the door wide she saw that my house had transformed into a warehouse. She squealed like a kid when she saw the Busy Blonds packing (as I call my blogging buddies).
Instantly Annie was pointing to things she liked and noticing the fine details of the collection. She never once claimed any of it to be junk, or old, or worthless. Instead she beamed with curiosity, I admire that quality in her: To find joy in the everyday, to find newness it what she has experienced well in her ninety years, to live the day to day moments with gusto.
Annie beamed, "Life is certainly filled with surprises."
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