“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment.” Henry David Thoreau
The last few weeks my days are filled with thoughts of the future. Wrapped up in what will happen next, I sink into forgetting what is right now. An abundance exists in the moments as they are happening. Here is what I love about right now.
Right now I love when my daughter tiptoes into my office and wraps her long, lanky arms around my shoulders and squeezes me from behind. A backward bear hug punctuated with “I love you” is the closest I will come to receiving unconditional love.
Right now I enjoy my daily phone call to my mom. She is the only person who has called me everyday of my almost forty-year-old life. That simple realization stuns me into gratitude.
Right now I sink into the poetry of the earth during my morning runs. As I gaze at the mountains, I realize that so much of their echos, lines, and beauty are a part of my own internal landscape. Sunrises and sunsets create a compass of light and dark. The reminder that time moves forward, but that the glory is in this moment.
Right now I vacillate between my disdain and joy of technology. I find comfort in checking emails, bantering with friends on text messages, and playing a midnight game of Words With Friends. At the same time I dislike, that sometimes, the Iphone is the only way to pacify my daughter during a long car ride.
Right now I know that my husband supports and cheers every professional and creative venture I decide to pursue. The freedom to be and find yourself is one of the best gifts one spouse can give to the other.
Right now I delight in making lunches, dropping off my daughter at school, and collecting every little love note and drawing that she makes for me. Right now she’s built her own treasure chest that sits atop my book shelf. It reminds me that right now are the days of her innocence and in her shire, the waterfalls drip butterflies, hearts, and peace signs.
Right now I am stronger because my connection with my sister. We share a childhood only we know and understand. And she not only loves me, but gets me.
Right now I am overcome by words. The ones I read in books, blogs, and that I discuss in my writing group. The written word is what I call home.
Right now. These days are fleeting. I grasp what I can. For that I am grateful.
IMAGE: TIME BY ALAN CLEAVER VIA FLICKR CREATIVE COMMONS