I was thinking the other day… while I was doing something glamorous. Maybe I was unpacking my silk handkerchiefs or fluffing my pillows… or maybe not. But I looked at my life unfolding before me, as I often do. It began playing before me, the things I watch. I watch my kids in the evening while they run about the house and listen to their comments, growing older every single day. I watch my husband interact with them in a way that’s more meaningful than I’ve ever seen before. It’s as if he’s realized he has two “dudes” to hang out with now. I hear them talk about cute girls at school or who won the soccer game at recess. I watch my oldest using speech in context that he’s heard from us, and I see him listen to himself to make sure he’s using it appropriately. I see my youngest try to find something to do with all the energy he has in his body, as if it has to be used and emphatically, but he must find the right path and right now! I look down to find I have changed from my slacks to my husband’s dark socks and my own sandals, with a fabulous pair of black workout pants. I don’t remember choosing the outfit, but maybe that’s because 1 to 3 people were in the room with me, asking me what’s for dinner or why we need money or why their friends get something they don’t or whether I change my underwear every day. And I defend my stance that I do.
I wonder after all these years, after all that we’ve been through, how these moments, these evenings, these hours can be so perfect sometimes. Not perfect like we all do what we are expected but that I see my children become who they are, reveal to themselves and us their preferences, talents, weaknesses. I revel in it. I am giddy when they compliment me or speak kindly to each other, not just kindly, but I see them go above and beyond. I get chills when they stop to hug each other on the way to their next stop on the road to the next moment.
Life happens, shit happens, love happens, families happen, and life is the moments, the moments in between the big moments, in between facebook photos and birthday parties. Their lives, their memories, my memories, my husband’s memories, our reality of parenting, their reality of growing up, it all happens in between, in between family vacations, holidays and activities. Life, who we really are, what we know about each other happens in between, in the evenings while we run about each other to get our evening chores and dinner done. It happens on the weekends when we all wake up and decide what the day will hold. Life happens, we happen, we become during those moments in between. And I am afraid to blink when I think of it. As busy as we become, as bored or distracted or impassioned by our own pursuits, we still live amongst life happening, all around us. And we can’t forget, not for a moment, how important it all is.
And that’s what I thought about during my glamorous silk handkerchief sorting… which was probably more like kitchen cleaning. But either way, I watched the world get fuzzy for a minute, while I teared up, while I saw something I loved, something that changes all the time, something that is always mine. I saw life happening, and I loved it more than I have ever loved anything.