When I was in my early 20s, I was in a bad relationship. I mean a really bad relationship. I was being systematically beaten and terrorized for nearly five years of my life. There are huge chunks of periods during that time that I can’t even remember. They are blacked out spots in my memory. I think my mind has done that so that I don’t relive or dwell on what happened. Suffice it to say, it was bad. Police, hospitals, judges, counseling, and more were a daily routine in my life.

Things that I do remember, though, were what got me through each and every day. I remember waking up in bed one day and seeing the way the sun came through the blinds and made lovely shapes of shadow and light on the wall. I remember the birds chirping on the tree outside the bedroom window. I remember cuddling up with my little rug-a-muffin Dyno, a sweet (and very protective) yellow lab who later succumbed to Valley Fever (a dreadful disease).

It seems that when life gets hard for me, I turn to those little things…the bright side of life. They get me through the days. The sunlight made me smile. I knew there was something beautiful in the world. The birds made me want to sing. I knew that there could still be joy in the world.

It is now 15 years later and I still do this. My life isn’t nearly as rough as it used to be and I don’t necessarily need to focus on those little things to get me through (because, truth be told, I see so much beauty and joy now that I don’t feel like I need to grasp on to every little bit of it). I still notice it, though.

Yesterday morning, as I walked through campus from my car to my office, listening to my Audible recording of Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love, I was enjoying the crispness of the air and musing on her words (she has a lovely voice and adds to the overall impact of the book). I didn’t see it at first but then noticed some movement out of the corner of my eye. Right in front of me, along the path I travel to get to my office, a little black skunk was moseying along the sidewalk, sniffing in the grass, and checking out the trees.

My head went up. Its head went up. We both continued walking. I headed out into the grass, away. The skunk headed toward the building I was going to. I love the way they run. They remind me of the ferrets I used to have, the ways their bodies scrunch up and move along. It made me laugh. It was cute. There was no danger in the moment. We were both in our own spaces and enjoying the early morning (I get to work at 6:30am and am usually the only person around).

Later, my nephew, Justice, and I had a conversation with one another over the phone. Justice has come a long way with learning and pronouncing words and it’s such a joy to hear him talk. But there are still times when I have no clue at all what he is saying. His exuberance, though, makes up for that. As I listened, he talked and talked and laughed and talked some more. And I listened and smiled and laughed with him. It made my heart sing.

This morning I was running late. I had stayed up watching an extra episode of the third season of Battlestar Galactica and I think that I was dreaming about it and couldn’t rouse myself (which is very atypical of me).

If I hadn’t been late, though, I would have missed out on it. I walked out the door with my beloved Dakota. We headed out to the gates to open them when a flash went across the sky. It was so beautiful. A shooting star that creased the dark sky with its brightness. And I smiled.

I smiled for the joy and the beauty that is in my life. I reached down and scruffed Dakota’s neck, telling him that he is a beautiful boy and that I love him.

A new day was beginning. And it’s a beautiful one.