Ya'll know what this is by now.
I am good at the little things.
Big things are untrustworthy. Institutions, churches, heroes, dreams- all those can be crushed. Fragile big things.
But small things, I love.
When I was a freshman in college one of my history professors took us to the special collections section of the Marriott Library. It was my Early Civilizations class, and we were going to see the cuneiform tablets from Sumer.
I was so excited. I couldn't believe that my school kept artifacts from earth's earliest civilization in their library. It was so thrilling, to see these tiny tablets that started it all.
I came home and told my Dad. I was shaking with excitement, and my Dad worried I had a manic disorder, but my love of small things isn't a mental illness- it is the thing that keeps me sane.
Throughout college, I did the majority of my studying in the Marriott Library, near the special collections room. I knew the tablets were buried in there somewhere, and so I stayed near them. I spent hours pacing white tiled floors with their gold specks, pacing as I re-read my notes.
Small things. The way books feel in my hands, the way a sharp pencil sounds against good paper, the light at the beginning of fall mornings and at the end of summer evenings. My baby curled against my shoulder. The smell inside museums, the first snow, wedding rings, freckles. All of them better and brighter and more sure than any big thing I've ever loved.