I was sitting at the dinner table with my kids tonight and I literally felt my heart swell. I love my kids. I've been in a funk these past few weeks. There's a lot going on which really just amounts to a lot of distraction. But the past few days have been better. Not that any circumstances have changed, the storm is still brewing - but there has been a subtle shift that has helped realign some of my world.
And tonight, part of that shift allowed me to sit with the kids and really enjoy them. Enjoy their goofy kid humor and antics. Enjoy Henry still making a mess at eight years old with spaghetti, his favorite meal. Enjoy the lightness of their laughter. Enjoy Lauren's fruitarian appetite, she would live off of mangoes and strawberries if we let her. Enjoy their ease and carefree ways. Enjoy Grace dancing in her chair to the music while she eats. Enjoy hearing about their days at school. Enjoy Lauren's open-palm hair swipe to keep her crazy hair out of her eyes. Enjoy the hilarity of pretend farts (really guys?!?). Enjoy Grace's mispronunciation of "brother" (it still comes out "blother" and I can't bear to correct her). There was so much to enjoy... I wish all dinners could be like that; unhurried, unstressed, with nothing to do but enjoy being with one another.
I think I thought I would wake up one day, and I would have turned a corner. The past would be laid to rest and I would be ready to walk forward; chin up, shoulders back, no more looking back. But I'm finding it's more of this long arching curve I'm on. No sharp corners, and the road behind me never fully obscured from view, but behind me nonetheless. Little by little, we're getting there. And some days are the two steps forward kind, and some days are of the one step back variety. But each one is a step on this long winding road. Sitting at the table with my kids tonight, savoring their innocence and wondering at their nuances, I could see how far we've come. I could feel the turn in the road and the subtle shift of the sun on our skin as our direction changes.
And tonight, part of that shift allowed me to sit with the kids and really enjoy them. Enjoy their goofy kid humor and antics. Enjoy Henry still making a mess at eight years old with spaghetti, his favorite meal. Enjoy the lightness of their laughter. Enjoy Lauren's fruitarian appetite, she would live off of mangoes and strawberries if we let her. Enjoy their ease and carefree ways. Enjoy Grace dancing in her chair to the music while she eats. Enjoy hearing about their days at school. Enjoy Lauren's open-palm hair swipe to keep her crazy hair out of her eyes. Enjoy the hilarity of pretend farts (really guys?!?). Enjoy Grace's mispronunciation of "brother" (it still comes out "blother" and I can't bear to correct her). There was so much to enjoy... I wish all dinners could be like that; unhurried, unstressed, with nothing to do but enjoy being with one another.
I think I thought I would wake up one day, and I would have turned a corner. The past would be laid to rest and I would be ready to walk forward; chin up, shoulders back, no more looking back. But I'm finding it's more of this long arching curve I'm on. No sharp corners, and the road behind me never fully obscured from view, but behind me nonetheless. Little by little, we're getting there. And some days are the two steps forward kind, and some days are of the one step back variety. But each one is a step on this long winding road. Sitting at the table with my kids tonight, savoring their innocence and wondering at their nuances, I could see how far we've come. I could feel the turn in the road and the subtle shift of the sun on our skin as our direction changes.
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