I want to be a better person, to keep my temper, to not be childish, venial and self-centred. I want to accept those things I cannot change. And to live peacefully. Do I want it too much? Each day I fail. I fail miserably sometimes. Yesterday it was the losing of my temper when he spilt his coffee and then it was the hissy fit that I threw when I came upon the huge splats of bird shit on my bedroom window. What does it matter? I read de Waal’s memoir of his ancestors and what they had to endure as Jews under the Nazis. Nothing matters compared to that. Nothing. I am nothing in the big scheme of things. And I am glad of it. My head fills on waking with all the stuff that I must do. And I forget the joy of it. The privilege. The privilege that is my life.
