Thursday, February 17, 2011

I Can Practically Taste It

We've been having more of that Easter like weather. The snow is melting. I actually enjoy leaving my house because I'm not freezing my butt off. I'm thinking Spring, but it is my goal to enjoy the here and now, and not try to rush into the next season. Anticipation takes away from the beauty of the moment.

(Note:  The current moment for me consists of listening to Mathilda alternating between pathetic whimpering and full on sobs in her crib as I decide whether it is going to be necessary to go get her, and a throbbing headache. Searching for the beauty in the moment.)

Mathilda and I did some Macy's clearance shopping while Lucy was at preschool this morning. She is my little shopping buddy and is generally quite happy as long as I keep a constant flow of snacks going to the stroller tray. She likes saying "hi" and "bye" to everyone we pass. It makes me happy when people respond to her, because she loves it, but sometimes she won't stop and it gets awkward because I don't want strangers to feel obligated to answer her greetings and salutations 50 million times. I got some really great deals, and could have done some damage with that Macy's card, but I restrained myself and limited my purchases to a few things my mom got me for my birthday. Thanks Mom, I love picking out my own birthday gifts.

After Mattie and I picked Lucy up from school, the three of us went to meet a few of my friends for lunch at a new Mexican restaurant nearby. The food was good but the company was better. I have the best friends. 

(Note: I brought Mattie downstairs, thinking maybe the other kids would enjoy getting some sleep. Toddler hugs, kisses, cuddles, hand holding, giggling, and tickles...beautiful. Toddler exhausted out of her mind yet not falling asleep until after midnight...not quite. Is this the living definition of ying and yang?)

One of my best friends called to tell me her mom is in the hospital and she doesn't think she's going to make it. Friends losing parents seems surreal. Is there anyway to put into words that even though I'm a grown up, I sometimes don't think I feel any different than I felt 20 years ago? My heart is aching for my friend today, who is getting married this year and her mom might not be there to see it. I am praying for peace for her mom, who I have known and loved since I was in the 4th grade. She always seemed like she would live forever. But doesn't everybody? 

We are mere mortals, yet convince ourselves otherwise just to get through the day. There is an invisible clock ticking away the minutes of our lives. How many minutes are left? No one knows. Each one counts. Each one is precious and irreplaceable. Some get wasted. Lots get wasted. Is there a giant dump somewhere full of wasted minutes, sort of like the great plastic island floating in an ocean somewhere that I've heard about? I don't want my minutes to end up there. 

I can smell Spring and it smells like life and newness. And at the same time my friend's mom is dying.  I want to say it's not fair, but it just is what it is. 

No comments: