For Granted

It’s Sunday night. You go to the half-decent Thai place down the street for dinner — a weekend habit. You order the sushi roll you’ve had 1,000 times. Or, you step into your kitchen, assemble ingredients and bake a double chocolate cake — your favorite. You take a bite of whatever is in front of you. You chew. Taste. Swallow.

You fill your mouth with icy tap water. You feel it move around in your mouth, hydrating your pores, moistening your lips. You swallow. It coats your throat all the way to your stomach where it ceases to exist in your conscious senses.

You hit snooze on your oversized analogue alarm clock. You pull yourself out of bed, stand up, and walk to the bathroom. You use the bathroom on our own. You’re grown adult, after all.

The most pain you typically feel is heartburn from eating fast food. You live without pain. Without real pain. You’re comfortable. But you never notice.

You pick up the New York Times from the kitchen counter. Your eyes scan the pages, hauling when they find something of interest. Your vision is 20/25. You can read.

You wear clothes that you choose to wear. Your favorite, over washed blue jeans from the Gap. Your old, falling-apart-at-the-seams white sneakers. That Georgetown T-shirt you’ve had since your trip to DC eight years ago.

You place one food in front of the other over and over again and catch yourself from falling — running. The cool breeze flows past, as you dodge cyclists and children. Your body is in motion. It feels good.

You take a warm, steamy shower. You scrub every inch of your body with a soft washcloth, feeling foamy soap and water drip down your skin. You exit and dry yourself with a large bath towel.

You cut your fingernails when they get long. You put on makeup or deodorant or jewelry to make yourself feel better. You shave your face or legs when you want to. It’s your choice.

You use your hands to sculpt something out of nothing. You create art for the world to enjoy. You express yourself. You have a voice — literally and figuratively.

Most of us experience a million tiny miracles every day.

Don’t take them for granted.