Be here, and be ok with being here.
You’ve nowhere to go. Nothing to do. For once. No classes or lessons or dinner to make. For once.
Yes, there’s a house to clean. And yes, lots of laundry. But the mess is always there. And clothes always need washed.
All that stuff? It will wait.
But this moment? It is brief and passing and much like a whisper.
Only the watchful will notice it.
Fewer still will heed it.
You’ve missed so many like this … attending to the harried whatever of your 40-year-old life.
But not this time, mama …
You’re there at the car.
Mind restless, sliding door open. Ready to get going to the next-next. Waiting.
Waiting for him to come on already.
Waiting for him to move by your clock.
Waiting for him be grown up enough to know that time is wasting.
He’s there between the bushes.
Arms raised, eyes wide. Ready to embrace this happened-upon adventure. Waiting.
Waiting for you to slow down already.
Waiting for you to give a little wonder to what he does.
Waiting for you to be grown up enough to know that time is wasted on phones and not on moments like these …
“Think I can do it, Mom?” he says.
Slow down already …
“Do what, buddy?” you say, moving away from the sliding door.
“Make it through the bushes without touching them.”
Give a little wonder …
“Wow, I’m not sure.”
It’s authentic, and he notices …
“I just have to wait for the wind to pick up a little,” he muses.
So let him wait.
And better still, wait with him.
See this story through.
Nothing is wasted here. Not this time, mama ….
So you do it. You wait.
And in only a few seconds, the wind obediently blows.
He rushes through the bushes. Victorious and all caught up in his own 5-year-old awesomeness.
Through the still-open sliding door and into his carseat he goes.
Lifting his little finger from the pause button. Moving his day back in sync with yours. Dutifully following the rules that just have to be followed sometimes.
But oh, for a moment …
A three-minute-and-27-second-moment …
A moment he found, but you, Mama, allowed him to have …
He held adventure close to his heart.
And you got to see it all.
Maybe not every day. But today, yes.
Author’s Note: This is a true story. It happened this morning on the way to the car after swim lessons. I wrote about it because I can be in such a hurry sometimes. Rushing to the things that don’t really matter. I shared it with you because maybe you have a tendency to do that, too. And perhaps we can slow down together.