The Now

Driving, I catch myself staring at the utter perfection of a clump of wildflowers growing in unrestrained abundance by the roadside.

Sleepless, I find myself thinking of the photos I haven’t printed, the thankyou cards I haven’t written, the quilts I haven’t finished and the ones I haven’t started. I gaze at Bonhomme’s sleepy toothless vampire grin, two insomniacs in the kitchen. My freckles make a constellation across his perfect face. He is the most beautiful art I have ever made.

Last night I watched Hibou fuss herself to sleep in the baby swing, wondering whether I was doing her irreparable harm by not swinging her to sleep in my own deadened arms.

I can’t seem to escape the moment. Now is the only time accessible to me, screaming, whining, tired now. Where everything is immediate, bright, loud and close. And also warm, and soft, and smelling of freshly washed baby hair.

As lovely as those wildflowers are, I could use some distance. Some perspective. When paying attention to the road is something I do, not something I have to work at.

Until then, I will keep reminding myself to enjoy the now. Someday, sleep will be effortless again, the moments will slip past unheeded.

A week later, picking strawberries with Bonhomme, I relive my own childhood while creating his. The taste of a freshly picked strawberry in my mouth is sunshine, dirt, and my mother. This, and so many others, is a moment too precious to miss.

That afternoon, I turn that sunshine into strawberry pie, and marvel at the utter perfection of my messy, noisy, crowded, upside-down and abundant life. My life is a clump of tangled wildflowers, and I stare, and smell, and devour it.

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1 comment so far

  1. Lynn on

    Just wanted to say – how lovely. You have such a beautiful way with words.


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