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Adventure of a Different Sort ?

Here we are,  it’s 3 in the morning,  pulling ourselves out of a warm slumber.  It’s almost shocking,   Yet,  there is something daring to it all,  “I dare you,  just see if you can do this!”  The air,  still,  cold,  blinking yellow,  the traffic lights are still in sleep mode.   Who would get themselves up at this hour for such a menial task and a few bucks?   Yet…Yet,   can all seemingly menial tasks become great when embraced with gratefulness and spirit of adventure?

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In the midst of it all,  my mind drifts to those less fortunate,  maybe even those in countries less prosperous than my own.  Would they see this as menial or of lower value?  My attention is directed to the family of four,  their car has seen better days.  The kids barely awake,  and seem to still be in their pajamas .  Loading paper stacked into the trunk until it will barely close and then the kid helps his dad bungee cord the trunk closed.  All windows down, obviously too cold for it but it looks as though they may be stuck that way.  Is menial to them,  or does this put food on the table?

Bleary eyed,  we roll,  stack,  and bind with rubber bands until the papers are roof high.  Off we go with head lamps and addresses.  Mr. Jones want’s his paper inside of the door.  Mrs. Smith ask’s you not to walk across her grass,  Mr. Brown only want’s his on Sunday, and so on.

 

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We quietly deliver from door to door running at times, I feel like a kid sneaking around in the dark.  He reaches out and grabs my gloved hand,  and this is us in the early morning before dawn.  Finding Joy in the moment, I laugh to myself at the foolishness of it all.  Up at dawn,  delivering the news,  running around and holding hands – and it’s all adventure,  just of the different sort.

 

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It all calls for two pieces of Quiche and coffee in the end.  All of life is adventure,  in the fullness of each moment live your’s.

 

 

 

1 Comment so far

  1. jazook54

    I weep at these words. I am enjoying life in a warm place where all troubles have been left behind and there is no one stirring at 3am. Although my paper has been carefully placed on the doorstep by another who must have been stirring, not through freezing temps, but chilly desert temps. I have found myself delivering the news, years ago, just as a temp for a friend, but this puts it into a different light. My prayers cover you and my love follows you always. Mom

    Liked by 1 person

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