2007-01-28
everyday moments
|Sometimes I can step outside of myself and really see the beauty in everyday things. It comes to me for a couple of minutes and is sort of like a postcard of a memory being imprinted on my mind.
Just like most of America, we're not really having a winter this year. Not the traditional snow on the ground, cold temperature winter that I have come to expect living in Michigan. On Friday we actually had snow the night before, so there was about two or three inches on the ground -- enough to cover everything and require some quick shoveling.
At around 9:30 in the morning, as I was filling my coffee cup, I was looking outside the kitchen window into the backyard. It was actively snowing big fluffy flakes and it sort of had the effect of a snow globe that was just shaken. There was enough space between the snowflakes that I could admire the beauty of each one individually.
Each flake just took its time artfully floating to the ground. And I thought wow, this is really incredible. I spent more than a minute just watching the flakes and their graceful descent. Then it was time to get on with the day.
I know this is just a rehash of the trite saying "Take time to stop and smell the roses." I'm not sure if everyone can do this or not. My sister Kim is also like this. At certain times, mostly with her children, she can remove herself from the situation and kind of take a mental snapshot and enjoy the moment itself aware that the moment will soon be gone.
It's kind of like a preview of the future when you know your children will be adults on their own and this is the memory you will call up of the good old days.
My youngest daughter is 18 months old now and still more like a baby than a toddler. Occasionally she wakes up in the middle of the night wanting to drink some milk and say hello to me. Usually I am tired and not excited at the prospect of visiting with her at 2 am, but I go in there anyway because I know she needs something.
Strangely enough, these are the times that I am really in tune with her and am actually comforted by her. I know she will be a surly teenager soon enough and these tender moments of mutual comfort will be a thing of the past. It's amazing to me that I have such an influence on her. As soon as she sees me in the dark she jumps up and down in the crib, in anticipation of me holding her.
I pick her up and give her four or five kisses on her cheeks and the top of her head, change her diaper, zip her sleeper up and sit on the bed cuddling her while she drinks her milk. Because it's the middle of the night we can't really see each other's faces, but she knows my smell and touch, just like I know hers.
It's this small ritual of sitting on the bed, holding my baby while she drinks her milk that I have imprinted on my mind as a favored memory. I can feel her head resting against my shoulder, her little legs dangling over my thighs. Once in a while she bounces one of her legs in a rhythm known only to her. I know when she is an adult I will think of the nights we sat together enjoying each other's company.
I don't think I will feel sad that her early days are over, but rather glad that I was aware enough to capture the moment for myself.
2007-01-28 at 3:21 p.m.
