Every once in a while, we are reminded how fragile life is. A child gets sick, a parent suffers heart damage, a train gets bombed. Today I stood in my kitchen looking at my daughter as she diligently spooned milky cheerios into her face; her fever dried lips working around the monstrous spoon as she enjoyed each bite. I savored the clink of Lily’s metal spoon against the glass, gathering mouthfuls after a whole day of not eating much of anything. My infant laid in the cradle, arms and legs waving around experimentally, little coos purring from her throat. I stood and I stared at all of this, somehow frozen in time and space. Out of the corner of my eye I only peripherally noticed a bit of dust floating through a sunbeam, my gaze fixed on my toddler, the spoon, her dark eyelashes. I listened to the pull of my breath, actively slowing down and focusing; allowing the moment to calm down my manic morning energy. I couldn’t move, afraid that if I did I would somehow lose her… lose the perfectness that is my child into the mayhem that is everyday life. I held perfectly still for just 60 seconds and I remembered to thank the higher power for all I could see, hear, feel, smell, taste and love.
How will 60 seconds change your day?