Like the orange of a clementine

The year 2018 is over. The com­pa­ny I work for offers its employ­ees the time off between the two hol­i­days. Tomor­row, I’m going back to work. I took advan­tage of the week to com­plete the wood­work in the large room. For­tu­nate­ly, I did not “work” for the office. I was able to read, lis­ten to lots of videos, med­i­tate and sing while putting the last mould­ings around my fun­ny ceil­ing lights.

My house was built slow­ly. We can now see the end of the mess. By 2020, I believe, it will all be over. I will cer­tain­ly have to refresh the office, because it is no longer an office. I will also have to put doors in place some­time… The more I think it ends, the more I see that there are still so many things to do. Kind of like life, you know.

This after­noon, I was able to vac­u­um the large room and I took the oppor­tu­ni­ty to remove the dust in my room and in the kitchen. We are the First of the Year. The sun is still drop­ping very ear­ly. That’s when I saw that light I love so much. If I have a regret not to work at home any­more, it is that I can no longer wit­ness the sun that baths my kitchen in the afternoon.

I took out two clemen­tines, attract­ed a bench to sit on and give me per­spec­tive. I peeled both fruits. The taste, both sweet and sour and cold, was good for me. On the counter, every­day objects and those that betray the activ­i­ty of the moment. My med­i­cines dis­trib­uted in two pill box­es, salt and pep­per, but­ter dish. I have to take the scraps and tools down to the base­ment, but I won’t do it until I have some space and clean­ing in the cel­lar. It is dif­fi­cult not to accu­mu­late, because, like squir­rels, we make reserves to either tin­ker or, in our old age, remind our­selves that we must strip our­selves of our belong­ings. In fact, these scraps that I have been car­ry­ing around since the begin­ning of my work have been use­ful to me again this after­noon. I had more mould­ings than I thought. And I have tools that I for­get to use.

No prob­lem, I took a deep breath, four or five times, while eat­ing my clemen­tines. I observed the light, the exis­tence, the things, and I only told myself one thing, that maybe I will say some­thing about it later.

The light of dusk resem­bles the soli­tude of our bod­ies. You can hear all the largesse of the universe.

A new num­ber will haunt us for 364 days and then we’ll let him go. Human­i­ty is also accu­mu­lat­ing a lot of things in its mem­o­ry. Too bad she does­n’t clean her cel­lar often, maybe she’d end up using the wis­dom she aban­doned, we don’t know when… Hap­py New Year to all, silky hap­py, espe­cial­ly in good health. Love each oth­er, as lit­tle Jesus said, as well as all the prophets and ani­mals on the plan­et. Seek bal­ance in every­thing and remem­ber the fad­ing light of days. It is the most deli­cious, orange like a clemen­tine, acid like oxy­gen that keeps you alive.