Storms and Sticky-notes

When gratitude finally arrives

Seven years after Brian’s departure Sylvia’s life was more joyful than it had ever been. The first few years, though, were hell on earth. It seemed that she had to go through the storm to get to the joy. Now she was finally grateful for the storm.

Sylvia could not even imagine how she could be grateful for the storm until the storm was over. In the midst of the storm gratitude seemed impossible. But now in the joy she wondered if she had somehow been able to be grateful during the storm would that have accelerated her passage through it? How does one muster gratitude in the midst of dire misery?

Not having any idea if that was even possible, she hoped that she would remember to try when the next storm came along — and storms are always coming and going. Then she wondered if gratitude could also help prevent approaching storms.

To help her to remember to be grateful Sylvia went to her desk and picked up a pen and a full little tablet of sticky-notes. On the top sticky-note she wrote the word, gratitude. She peeled it off the sticky-note pad and stuck it on the side of her computer screen. Then she wrote that word on another note and stuck it to her bedroom mirror. Then she went to the bathroom and stuck another note to the bathroom mirror where she was sure to see it early in the morning. Then she stuck a note to the refrigerator, one to a kitchen cabinet, one to her closet door, one to the inside of her front door, one to the side of her TV… She kept sticking gratitude notes all over her apartment. She went through half the pad of sticky-notes.

Smiling and feeling good about what she had just done, Sylvia sat down on her couch and looked around at all the many gratitude sticky-notes covering every surface of her apartment. Surely she would not forget to be grateful.

Then the phone rang. It was her boss. He said the company was downsizing and that she was being laid off. Sylvia laughed and thanked him. She was getting tired of that job anyway. Turning off the phone, she set it down and picked up the remaining half of the pad of sticky-notes, wondering what word to write next.

Copyright by White Feather. All Rights Reserved. This is a work of fiction. Stories by White Feather

Speaking of storms…