Luscious Living Blog by Kim McMechan

When my first daughter was born, and I entered a year-long period of intense depression, I invented a list for myself called “10 Beautiful Things”. 

 I did this because the main quality of my depression was that the world seemed to be a grey, dreary place devoid of any beauty at all.  I was vaguely familiar with the concept that ‘what you focus on expands’ and in my desperation, I forced myself to focus on the beautiful things even though, at the time, it felt nigh near impossible. 

 My first list went something like this:

1.  I have legs  2.  I have arms  3. I have hair.

 I remember barely being able to get past number 4 the first few times.  But something magical happened with those lists.  I began to look for beauty instead of waiting for it to come to me, I began to search for it in every crack…. “The light on the floor” I’d write.  “The blackbird on the fence”.  Until after awhile, it seemed to be everywhere again.

 I’d love to say that this optimism stuck, but the truth is, my mind has this icky habit of imagining worst case scenarios for everything.  And so, I return to these lists over and over again to dig myself out of bad places. 

 I once had a blog where I posted these regularly, and recently, I’ve felt the need to do so again.  Here’s my list of 10 beautiful things.  Feel free to join me and post yours here too.   I’ll be posting these regularly.

10 Beautiful Things:

1.  My new white curtains

2.  That it’s finally summer

3.  The Peonies in the flower beds

4.  My green bike

5.  Sitting by the water today for awhile

6.  The new neighbors

7.  A stack of new library books

8.  The sound of the wind outside

9.  Ella’s eyelashes

10.  Iryn’s long whispy hair

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My 6 year old lost her 2nd tooth the other night, and I completely forgot to leave her toothfairy money. She woke the next morning and came into my room, distraught, holding her sad looking tooth: “Why didn’t the toothfairy come?” She said.

I moaned. I sympathized. I suggested that maybe the toothfairy didn’t see it because it was so small, that we should try again.

I forgot again. And then again. Still my daughter, full of faith, kept believing. Although by now, her version of the toothfairy has changed from a shiny, smiling magical lady, to a fat old many who smokes too many cigarettes and misses work shifts due to hangovers.

I finally remembered on the 4th night, and left a note, apologizing:

“I’m very sorry I kept you waiting.” said the toothfairy (whose handwriting looked remarkably like mommy’s and whose pen had apparantly stopped working half-way through and had to be replaced with another pen of a darker color)

“So many kids lost their teeth this week, I just couldn’t keep up. Some kids had to wait a whole week. Here is something a little extra.” I left her double the regular price for a tooth. This morning, she crawled into my bed, smiling her little gappy smile.

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