Friday, March 28, 2014
living in a Moment.
Yesterday's late March afternoon was unusual for the simple fact that Ben was home. Most weekdays, it's rare when we are in the same place at the same time before 10 pm.
The girls were playing in the toy room, and I could hear their squeals and screeches as the ponies in their hands danced and jumped. They had purposely dressed themselves alike today, in matching grey t-shirts and poofy skirts. In between fighting, they have become very good friends.
I found myself laying stomach-down on the white comforter of our master bed, only feet away from Caleb who was sitting at the desk finishing homework. In between helping answer his questions, I was reading a sentence here and there, desperately trying to finish the book I had started over the weekend while I was away on vacation. I was determined to finish it--the pile on my night stand of half-read novels was getting too high. Besides, I had been swallowed up by the characters and couldn't leave them until I knew what happened in the end.
It was right as I read the sentence when one of the characters in the book died, that Ben joined me on the bed, laying down the same way so the sides of our arms were touching. He was texting a friend who needed advice about a car their family was buying.
Though I was engrossed in my book, I felt my senses becoming aware of my surroundings--something I usually tune out when enveloped in words on the page. I heard the soft whirring of the ceiling fan, the light scratching of Caleb's pencil on his paper, the tick-tick-ticking of Ben's phone as he replied in text, and the girls' sometimes shrill but happy noises. I felt the comfort of skin from my arm touching Ben's, and became aware I had absentmindedly hooked one of my feet around his, bouncing it up and down on the bed as I was reading. I saw the afternoon sun coming through our bedroom window, softly enhancing shapes and shadows.
As my senses heightened to the moment I was living in, I remembered words from a television show I had once heard,
"You know how people talk about the Good Ole' Days? I wish you could know they were the Good Ole' Days when you were actually in them."
I closed my book, laying still, focusing. I thought of taking a picture so I wouldn't forget what was happening, but didn't want to disturb anything. Instead I climbed on top of Ben, resting my head on his back, my cheek against his shoulder blade, wrapping my arms around him so they were in-between his chest and the bed.
I knew I had been caught up in the story of the dying character, but as I clung to Ben I faced the thought that one day I would not have the opportunity to wrap my arms around him, or help Caleb with his homework, or listen to my girls happily imagine.
"Well this is nice, what is this for?" Ben asked about my sudden change in position.
"This life, that we've created together," I began, and stopped because I could feel emotion welling inside of me. "We just have a really good life, and I'm grateful for it."
I lay there quietly for a few minutes, letting the beauty of our right now consume me. And then Caleb finished his homework, and the girls chased each other into our bedroom, and life began moving forward again.