We haven’t yet crossed into the dreaded period of post-season regret — that spate of terrible days after the holidays when Weight Watchers, Lean Cuisine and, now, I suppose, FitBit will be filling our inboxes and mailboxes with guilt-inspired images that pressure us to change.
Good. I hate those messages.
I like to be inspired, but I’m not a fan of regret, and I find being instructed to regret particularly demoralizing.
If communication is mostly a matter of associations — messengers are messages and meanings are derived primarily by context — than let’s think differently about cookies on this lovely Friday morning.
I know well that most who have a cookie today will only have a couple — two, three, maybe four, maybe only one. This is not the sort of thing that will cause serious trouble. It may well, in fact (especially if you are open to it), create a lovely moment that you can keep for as long as you like.
That sugary cookie, filled with molasses and butter and eggs, and topped with melted white chocolate, might stop you just long enough for something important to happen. It may help you pause (rest is surely good) and think of your mother or your grandmother or a Sunday School teacher.
And, when you taste it, and the feeling that sneaks into your head reminds you that there is beautiful foliage outside and friends here in Hartsville who wish you well, and when part of the cookie lands at your feet because you forgot to be quiet in this moment and you can’t manage to stop laughing while you take a fourth cookie for your pocket, couldn’t you hold on to your fabulous childish soul for just long enough to snap a picture to save in your heart?
Then, as you move on to the business of this day, maybe you’ll skip as you step, toss a stone at a target to check your aim, and know that you are well.
Come and get ’em.