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Looking out my Backdoor: The shifting sands of what matters

This morning after I got dressed, I did something outside of my routine. I looked in the mirror. Hmmm, said I, to myself. Not bad. The layers match this morning. The socks don’t match the tops. Oh, well. They match each other. Mates. A pair. But if they didn’t, oh, well. No matter.

Socks matter on these old feet. Warm matters, especially in the cool morning.

I walked into the kitchen to fill the kettle with water for coffee. That bag of flour is still sitting on the island. What? Three days now. No matter. I’ll bake today. Maybe. The kitchen is clean. Clean matters. A bag of flour...


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