I read a post* the other day about not counting on someday. It got me thinking about how often I do things thinking they’ll be great memories to have years from now. 10, 20, 40 years from now as I sit beneath a fan on a porch (because oh, how I covet the idea of a porch with a fan. It’s just so deliciously unnecessary and wonderful). I remembered the moments when something took me by surprise and I genuinely reveled in that very moment. It’s a mistake to do it for another time, but keeping a grasp on how not a single moment is guaranteed is very nearly unsustainable.
Oer this Memorial Day Weekend I felt very close to grief, aware of loss. Tears threatened frequently and the lump in my throat accompanied us on our every move. I gave up fighting it and simply acknowledged that the weight of my blessings was going to sit firmly upon me. We played in sprinklers, ate dinner shoulder-to-shoulder at the table, chased butterflies and each other and went about spending the hours we were given in celebration.
Sitting at work today, the kiss of the weekend’s sun tickling my skin and the effort of the play making my muscles twinge and groan, I continue to be grateful. I think about women like Yvonne, and I wish that our consciousness of our blessings and the sacrifices of others were more consistently present.
We could try couldn’t we? Not someday, but this day, we can really try to begin to honor our lives and the value of others around us on a daily basis, can’t we?
*Thanks to Jessica for pointing me to the post.