It was still dark when I climbed out of bed this morning to prepare for my daily swim. I had to open the bathroom window to confirm that yes, in fact, it was raining again, raining hard, raining loud, with thunder and sparks of lightning before the dawn.
I climbed back into bed and pulled the covers over my head. No swimming outdoors when there’s thunder and lightning.
I had anticipated such an active Monday – taking the day off as an extra extension to my holiday weekend, I would swim, walk a mile to get there and back, walk that same mile again to take my little guy to camp, and then bike that same mile yet again to take my daughter to tennis camp. And then my eldest son and I would bike into town for a little outing together while the other two were occupied.
No such luck.
I did the first mile walk with my little guy, and then tennis camp was canceled. So the three of us decided to bike into town together for an adventure – only to realize we don’t have bike locks to make that work. So we climbed into the car to go out for breakfast and shop in the thrift store, antique store and comic book store.
Still, it was fantastic. It’s wonderful that my children have the same affection I do for old stuff. Someone else’s trash becomes our treasure. I bought 7 pairs of shorts for $3.71. Asher got a brand new board game for $2. At the antique store, a vintage book on war for Asher and a framed beautiful black and white photo of JFK for my kitchen wall.
Capturing a sense of our collective history, where we’ve been, where we’re headed.
This life is such a combination of yesterday, today and tomorrow. When we’re so focused on what lies ahead we never truly experience where we are at this moment.
Walking across the wet field to drop off Shaya at camp, the rain clinging to the grass seeped into my sneakers but it didn’t bother me – that’s what it means to feel alive. To be here right now. To know the ground is wet and the air is damp and the mugginess is annoying, yes, but when you feel the moment on your skin, nothing else reminds you quite so well that you are very, very alive.
The other thing we can’t forget is the power of connection. Every day I am reminded of the importance of these relationships we form and nurture, sometimes cast aside, sometimes cling to, sometimes forget about and come back to.
Yesterday we spent the day on the boat of a couple I’ve known since high school. The waves were high, the air cold when the clouds covered the sun, but the boys kayaked and the girls swam and new friendships were formed, driven by very old friendships.
At our party Friday night, all the connections were boundless. This person I love knows another person I love, and then someone else asks for his number. It is a web of interconnectedness driving us down the path of life, one which makes our journey richer.
When we hole up in alone-ness, we don’t realize how amazing life is. When we pity ourselves, or feel sorry for the emotion of the moment, or get tethered by our deep dark emotions, we forget about the light beaming bright within. It never extinguishes; we just obscure it by allowing ourselves to mire in the muck.
It’s a Monday morning and we experienced little steps and little discoveries on a bright white morning. We are together quietly on a day when otherwise I’d be at work. The kids are calmer than they had been over the weekend, no longer overstimulated, no longer vying for attention.
All is well in the world. Because when it rains, it pours.