All is calm on this weekend morning which is how I tend to like it. I moved the desk from the back of the house to the front and as I sit to write this I’m gazing out the window overlooking the front yard. Nothing is moving. Not a single leaf, or branch on the trees and there’s one bird singing it’s morning praise song.
There’s Cello music playing on the Emerson Bluetooth speaker and this particular piece plays music for an hour which is ample time to write. Once the music stops, I’ll know my time is up and can move onto the next thing, or continue writing.
My life is enough and I’m sure comparatively to some it’s more than enough, as we’ve talked about before here, but it feels as if it took my whole life to get to this point. What is a life of enough and what does that feel like? The wanting subsides is one thing I’ve noticed and I can’t think of anything I need, but here’s a recent example.
I saw an adorable little desk on FB Marketplace. It was originally from World Market, which you know I have a sweet spot for and it looked like a miniature version of the old secretary desk, but it was stained a pale green. It was an entryway piece, which I’ve always struggled with what to put in my entry because it’s so small, but this would’ve been perfect. The price was $50, which seemed reasonable since it looked new.
I contacted the seller and we set a time and day for me to come see it, but as the day approached, I felt unease about it. I tried shrugging it off to stay true to the plan, but needed to get some cash for the purchase. That morning I went to run some errands and asked for cash back after my purchases, but the store had a $40 limit, so asking for $50 was too much. I found it odd, but came home to conjure up a Plan B.
There’s a gas station nearby that has an ATM which I’ve used before, so I stopped by there on my way to see the desk. Inserting my debit card I went through all of the prompts and selected $60, thinking I’d ask the store clerk to exchange a twenty for two tens. An error message appeared on the screen saying they couldn’t complete this transaction and it spit out a receipt as if saying, “Okay…you can go back home now.”
I returned home and messaged the seller with what happened and told him the little desk obviously isn’t for me, but someone will love it. He understood and I felt at ease, but that is when my inner ding said, “You want a desk at the front of the house? Go get the one at the back of the house, bring it up front, sit your butt down and write.” My inner ding can be bossy, but this writer knows that for now she’s living a life of enough.
Inbarbsworld 
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