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Monday, April 20, 2015

Like sun on the water

Let's be honest.  I'm just not your look-on-the-bright-side kind of gal.  Never have been.  Never will be.

Any whining that pours from the mouths of my boys I deserve back ten-fold from my, uh, less-than-perky childhood.

And, as we already know, I can imagine the worst possible outcomes in any and every situation.  My mind naturally leans towards what could go wrong before I ever consider what could go right.  I mean, eventually I consider and weigh these good things, but rarely before I've seriously examined the bad.

But, whatever.  The world needs us look-on-the-realistic-side types too.

And so at the beginning of the week I would have told you I wanted nothing more than to lie all by myself in bed with a good book and no children demanding anything of me.

Only the next day, when all my dreams came true and I laid by myself shivering in bed, with a good book beside me on the nightstand, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to feel well.  How much I wanted to get dressed and skip out into the beautiful sunshine with my gorgeous boys.  How I longed to jump with them on the trampoline and take walks to the frog pond and how I hated, hated being left behind.

But as the days went on like this, I kept finding myself taking these small breaks from self-pity and general misery to experience what, I suppose, can only be described as gratefulness.  I know, I'm as surprised as you are.

These moments crept up on me like the tide, little by little, gaining a bit more ground every time they washed over me.

The first day of my sickness I dropped the boys off outside of the school.  They usually hate this, but they could tell mommy wasn't messing around, so they kissed me good-bye and walked the ten steps into the building with very minimal dramatics.  Later that day a friend messaged and told me she saw Aiden taking Finn to his class, how he said good-bye and kissed him gently on the head, and my heart nearly melted into a puddle on the floor.  And gratefulness washed over me.

The same friend offered to bring the boys home, another to watch Benjamin, and still more to drive and pick up the boys every day for the rest of the week.  And I realized that somehow, in our last four years here, people have come to truly care for us, and us for them.  And gratefulness washed over me.

Every day after work Joel rushed home and scooped up the boys.  Benjamin would bounce from the house with shouts of glee after way too much TV and not nearly enough sunshine.  They would be gone all evening and the next morning, after Joel left, Benjamin would ask, over and over, "Dada doe?"  And gratefulness washed over me.

After a short trip Joel's parents returned and completely took over.  Benjamin got to go on walks and play outside, the dishes and laundry were done, meals were cooked, diapers were changed, and I was left with nothing to do but rest and recover.  And gratefulness washed over me.

As I laid in bed, too tired to read, and too uncomfortable to sleep, the sounds of tiny, joyful voices drifted through the crack in my bedroom window.  And I smiled because those tiny voices were mine.  Those uninhibited, squeaky little voices were mine.  And, in that moment, gratefulness washed over me.

Perhaps my healthy days are filled with so much good that I can't even notice it.  Perhaps I walk around in a fog of goodness that I am constantly forgetting to be grateful for.  But on my sick days and my tired days and my begrudgingly slowed down days, I notice these moments in complete clarity.

And when I'm really seeing clearly, these moments are like sun sparkling on the water.  If I'm still enough, I can feel the gratefulness washing over me.





1 comment:

  1. I hope you sre feeling better Kim.
    I loved this blog!

    ReplyDelete