Monday, May 8, 2017

#100daysofwriting: day 35- on noticing & feeling the joy

One of my most cherished memories is when my brother and I went to Vancouver, B.C. on the train from Seattle. We took a day trip together when he came and visited me in the PNW. We had a blast exploring Vancouver on foot. I think we walked a crazy amount of miles, ate delicious food, and explored shops and neighborhoods. What I remember about the train was how the perspective you get looking out the window is like  nothing else. It's so much different than a plane, a ferry, or even a car. It's a consistent flying by in which what you see trickles through your view, like grains of sand slipping through your finger tips. 

I was reminded of this moment when I was sitting at a red light by my office. The light had just turned red and I was behind the first car at the light. Normally, I would just zone out, changing the radio station or fumbling with my bag or taking a sip of hot tea from my travel mug. Today though, I simply turned my head and I saw a man with a young child in his arms. And there was so much joy. So much joy. She had to have been two or three years old. Clearly she was laughing and totally enamored with him, putting her tiny hands all over his face. He was carrying a tiny pink backpack, clearly hers, and they were happy as clams. 

After getting home from work, I went into our office to drop my bags, and I looked out the window at our neighbors deck. I saw a beautiful, new, glass wind-chime they had hung. The light had caught it just right and I could hear the chime through the open window. It was a lovely reminder to stop, pause, and recognize the beauty. 

When The Man got home tonight, I wrapped my arms around him like I usually do, but really hugged him. I was present in the hug, feeling his broad shoulders, the weight of his torso, and his strength, almost like he could scoop me up and carry me off into the sunset. I took a deep breath and realized that being with him is being home. 

These three little pieces of my day lasted no more than a minute or so, but they made me realize that I must notice. I must do a better job, wait, I want to do a better job, of noticing. Of being aware. Of keeping my eyes up and heart open. 

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