I sat on the grass. Usually I sit in the stands. But the hubs had mentioned that it’s always cooler on the hill. So I sat. My phone died. And I looked out at the sun. The breeze began to blow slightly. And it was a welcome addition after I’d been beading sweat in all the places that sweat beads when the heat sits on them too long without breathing.
The sun wasn’t yet low because we are edging closer to the longest day.
And he ran. Around and around. In circles. He ran. I could see him talking to his pack. And laughing. I could see them conversing and enjoying and living. And he ran.
My eyes began to water beneath my retro green shades. I couldn’t help it. I can’t help it when it hits. When I stop and watch and breathe in the moment. I can’t help how it takes up every inch of feeling that I can hold until I feel like my heart couldn’t possibly feel more than that very moment. Just a fleeting. normal. simple. moment.
One that is what is meant by the way the word live gets to be included in the concept of being a-live. Living. Life.
Gosh. I just can’t help waxing poetic at times. About the goodness. And the feels. And the uncontainable comfort and solace that I get in the moments that are so exceptionally normal.
Little boys running on the track. Under the summer sun. As I lay on the grass. And think through all that I have been given a chance to see and be grateful for. All that I might have missed if it all happened another way. All that I might have missed, in some regard, had it never happened. How God and my husband and my babies and my parents and my family and my friends and my doctors and my people and how so many other people are part of this life I get to have. How I have so much more than one could ever really need and how incredibly humbling that goodness feels. And how some days, I actually wonder if maybe, so much of what I get to live now is my heaven.
It’s not a typical idea of perfection. Sometimes, I yell at my kids. My house is definitely not going to be on the cover of any magazines. My body is healthy and mine and right now, those are the two most important characteristics I could ever hope for for it. I don’t have it all together. But I do have these moments where I see that no one has ever found perfection in a uniform example. And everyone’s version would be completely different from anyone else’s.
And I breathe in these moments where I feel I might have been let in a secret. That life is short. That the amount of days and breath and time we get is finite. That our forever on this planet is not the true expanse of foreverness. And that I am a lucky woman to get to lay on the grass, watch a child be happy, and feel a sense of purpose in my bones. One that I will cling to with everything I have. And hopefully never. ever. ever. forget.