Writing yesterday was just what I needed to get out of my funk. And last night, as I was sitting by the fire, reading, sipping some red wine, and hanging out with my kids and one of their friends, I felt really lucky. It was such a relaxing and real moment. Not something filled with the materialism of stuff, just being. I finally slowed down enough to enjoy myself. I finally finished a book that I had been reading since summer of last year. Pathetic, I know, considering it was an 80-page essay/article, but it felt good to finally finish it and to start a new book.
My husband had been working all day, I was cleaning and carting kids to play dates and birthday parties, and although we were not together, I finally felt the balance of what we do. He is working, doing what he loves in order to enable us to "live." I was handling the other half so the rest of us could "live." Each of us doing our part, and neither one any more important than the other.
Last night was filled with a myriad of ah-has and visions and memories. The sleepover with my son and his friend constantly made me smile and giggle. It took me back to when I was his age and hanging out with my friends, mainly one in particular. We were always together, at one or the other's house. Always acting crazy, playing Yahtzee in the top of my closet, talking in weird voices, singing songs all the while our parents were rolling their eyes at us and laughing.
Last night, while laying on the floor in front of the fire, it brought up visions of my sister. Her head always seemed to be in a book while I was the one begging her to play Stratego with me. Her lying in front of the fire, on the "Jeffy rug" just wanting to finish her latest Little House on the Prairie book. I was the "I don't want to sit down and take the time to read. I want to play and dance and run around" kinda kid. She just wanted to finish that chapter. Back then it drove me crazy. I just wanted my big sister to come and have fun with me. I thought reading was boring, but now I totally get it. The slowing down and reading. The opening and expanding of the mind and imagination. I get it.
Then my husband came home after a long exhausting day and we were all together, hanging out in front of the fire. And man, did it just feel right. Family, friends all snuggled together watching and laughing at a movie. Knowing what it felt like to have that as a child and loving that I have that as an adult.
And as I sit here writing, listening to the squeals of joy, as my kids and their friend sled down the neighbor's hill, I will make sure that I have the water boiling and the hot chocolate on the table as they come inside to warm their ice cold noses and fingers. Because it is never the things that your parents bought you that you remember, it is instead what they did with you and for you that embeds in your heart and mind.
I am so lucky.