I like to watch my son. Unless I insist, he doesn't do anything he doesn't want to be doing with his whole almost-20-month-old self at any given time. When he wants to read, he brings me a book. When he wants to run, he runs. When he wants to stop doing whatever it is that no longer holds his interest, he simply stops and moves on. He lives in the moment. It's a skill we lose somewhere along the way, and that's a shame.
Lately, I find myself trying to make note of the simple pleasures in my life - the moments I realize time has passed without my notice because I've been totally engrossed in something, the unadorned joy of freeing myself from external distractions. The list is growing, and I'm taking great pleasure in that. Just a few from the week:
Sharing a (yes, organic, thankyouverymuch) vanilla milkshake with the boy at lunchtime.
Focusing on the music coming through my headphones and the memories associated with it and then noticing how much distance I've covered on the treadmill.
Listening to my boys breathing, early in the morning, wrapped in blankets in the dark just before first light.
Feeling like the bike I'm riding and I are one and the same as I push myself up a hill in spin class.
I've noted so many, yet I wonder how many I've missed. Such a shame that I spent so many years denying myself the simplest of pleasures and the joy of so many sweet memories. Sometimes I grieve for all those unacknowledged moments, which hurts a lot, but it doesn't do me any good to stay in that headspace for too long. Continuing to mourn all the moments I missed would only keep me from participating in the moments I'm given now, here, today. The best I can offer myself is forgiveness for not knowing any better, and permission to leave it behind me and live the life I've been blessed with. This toddler-chasing, laundry-folding, running, laughing-with-my-husband life.