|Sunset at William Creek - the middle of nowhere in the Australian desert|
'At the end of the day'. I say that a lot.
She made personal comments about my lack of speedy reproduction and I got really angry, but at the end of the day it's her issue, not mine.
I regretted having that takeaway meal and I wish we'd eaten leftovers at home instead, but at the end of the day it doesn't really matter.
That kind of thing.
And so I sit here, at the actual end of a day, and I ponder the truth of that sentiment. I think about what matters to me right now, as I look back at my day.
What matters is that I woke up in my husband's arms. (It takes me a moment to remember that the time I woke was 3am, and that I never fell back into a deep sleep after that. Which could explain why I'm so tired now. But that part doesn't mean anything.)
What matters is that I spent an hour of my morning reading stories to my little girl. (It occurs to me that I had told her I was busy and she would have to wait a minute - but the important part is that I kept my promise.)
What matters is that I looked after myself - I walked, I ate well, I baked beautiful food and did things that made me feel good. (As I write this I'm eating my second serve of dessert, but I'm not worried about that.)
What matters is that our house looks like a good time was had in it today. (Which is code for 'it's messy in here'.)
What matters is that I enjoyed my day. (I didn't achieve anything in a tangible sense, but that's a secondary thought.)
That's it. At the end of a day, all that really counts are the big bits. It's true: the little things really don't matter.