Each day is far from perfect if it is measured against some random external factor that has been crammed down our throats since the day we figured out how to change the channels. But I’m learning that each moment is perfect if we can just take the time to be in it.
This afternoon I sat with my girl as she cried, distraught over a misunderstanding and the fear of change. Then, later, I nearly cried myself as she climbed up to sit next to me and sing along as I played my guitar. The songs she didn’t know she gladly just hopped up and danced around instead.
Dinner opened the random can, as always, starting with multiple start and stop interpretations by the kids of the same song for what would possibly pass as a blessing and interspersed with frustrated siblings elevating their voices, trying to take their turn in the conversation that ranged from the dangers of playground equipment to the dangers of Snapchat. Ahh, family dinners.
The night was closed with a time honoured, special edition, family dance party night after dinner. Josie somehow worked her way into her two year old ballet outfit and broke into her patented crab dance while Maddox whipped, jumped and whirled across the room. Robyn performed some carefully choreographed moves from what I’m pretty sure was a MS cheerleading routine (i tease only because i love and probably deep down wish i could actually dance like that) while I, of course, impressed the house with my stylistic renditions of the running man. Pure joy in their eyes, laughter in everyone’s hearts. These are the moments when the world melts away and I’m thankful that I’m here.
I’m far from figuring it all out. My brain still explodes and I find myself in chaotic, spiralling situations. But I’ve got a partner who believes in me, and kids with the world in their eyes. So, I’m learning how to appreciate the lessons of the smiles and the spirals, and, so far, it seems like that can only make each moment better.