I’ve been in a transitional, thoughtful place. Coming down from the beautiful blur of promoting my novel, settling back into regular, cherished rhythms of home and life, daydreaming about what comes next…
What comes next.
Three important, problematic words. Important because I believe we must keep an eye on the proverbial road ahead, live purposefully toward meaningful personal and professional goals. But problematic too because if we train our focus too intently on the future, we will miss the present.
I don’t want this to happen. I don’t want to lose here and now in the shuffle of there and when. This has long been a theme in my life and in my writing. I want to cling to my moments, but I’m remembering that this takes a certain amount of diligence, of taking notice.
I was out and about with the girls the other day and we stopped to read a collection of pastel chalk words on the sidewalk:
kiss your life.
just as it is.
you’re waiting for
don’t pass you by.
Yes. These words quite literally came at the perfect time. I can’t stop thinking about them. I don’t want to stop thinking about them. I want to make soak them up, make them mine. I want to kiss my life and accept it. Just as it is. Today. Now. So that these moments of happiness I’m waiting for – that we are all waiting for – don’t pass me by.
A few recent moments of happiness…
My littlest girl, freshly five, with her new haircut and her new strawberry dress, on our falling-apart front stoop. It’s still chilly, but almost spring.
My three ladies zoom up Amsterdam Avenue, on the way to the preschool each attended. My littlest babe will graduate this spring and come fall, my Rowlets will all be at the same school, my former school.
After lots of travel for me and for Husband, we are all home, together again. We head out to Central Park, to wander. I hang back, as I do, and notice how big everyone is.
We indulge in a fierce game of soccer in a hilly spot, use Poland Spring bottles to make goalposts.
The girls and new friends – the daughters of Husband’s high school buddy – make a rainbow out of their Shopkins.
After a much-needed break from my early mornings, I resume a ritual that is dear to me. I sip coffee, stare at a blank screen, steep in quiet, cobble words, imagine a new world.
Moments. That’s all they are. Little slips of time that contain joy and meaning and life. I renew my vow to collect them, these gems, to roll them over in my hands and in my mind, to do what I can to see them and savor them.
And save them.
Are you good at collecting everyday moments of happiness?