Often I feel like there is not enough time, the same way that you do. There isn’t enough time for anything, for everything, or for those things in between. Sometimes I get hung up on that fact that I am not…Living.In.Present – which is another way of saying — I take things for granted.

The glow in my daughter’s eyes first thing in the morning usually lifts my heart a bit. Yet, by the time she’s taking her oh-so-precious-three-year-old time putting on her shoes to leave for daycare, my impatience is as solid as my heart. Then I sigh that infamous sigh she knows. My eyes go up and then down in a drastic eye-roll that only sometimes – sometimes, I avoid her from seeing. But not usually.

My husband is one of those sweet souls that reminds me from time to time to slow down. However, he likes to do this when I am in the middle of doing something. Let’s say I’m clearing off the dining room table. You know, putting pieces of paper in the garbage that our daughter has collected on there, removing mail, straightening chairs. And then. Here he comes. Head cocked to the side, slightly. Big ol’ handsome brown eyes gleaming. Mouth drawn in that adorable smile that he passed down to our little one. Arms stretched out. He pulls me by the wrists then wraps me so tightly in his arms that I become the cat that peppy le pew harassed. “Slow down. Doesn’t this feel good? You always try to move away when I hug you.” And then I get irritated, “I don’t always.” Why do men like to use that word incorrectly and so frequently?

Yet he’s right. Well, not by declaring, “always”. But I do need to slow down and just live in the moment. And to be honest (as if I haven’t been) – I do have plenty of times that I slow down. Just not enough. And too spaced out.  But I do have reminders around me all the time.

Well —

Yesterday was a good reminder:

I met a young man briefly at work. He was a genuine soul. Had a very warm smile. Kind. A friend of a coworker. Come to find out he has blood cancer. He was half the size he was last year. I received a rush of quivers. Internal compassionate quivers that made me feel sad. Not down. Just sad. But within that sadness there was hope. Hope and love. Because he was hope and love. It was read in just his mere presence. He was enjoying/INjoying his life. Cherishing each moment. It reminded me of the simple fact that we know so well — life isn’t promised. We can be taken away at any time.

Today is a good reminder:

On this date, 84 years ago my loving Grandmother Helen was born. My father’s mother. So soft was her touch. I woke up thinking about her. Tears swelled in my eyes as I reflected on how ALIVE she was when she lived as us. Nothing intricate or extraordinary to the common American eye. But she had so much love. So much kindness. Hugging her was like hugging pudding. And I loved the feeling of her bathroom. I loved being in her bathroom. The toss rugs on my bare feet – warm and cozy, like fresh bath water. The aromas of varying soaps that wed together would flood my nose with joy. It was as if the walls throbbed with good intent to heal in a room designed to eliminate human filth. And she was so God-fearing and compassionate.

Yea, often I feel like there is not enough time — just like you do. But, now is the time to start living it. Living in the moment. Not taking things for granted. Not taking my loved ones for granted. And for the purpose of my sanity and for the purpose of this blog — not taking my writing for granted. Yes, I have been reminded. Next time my husband strokes me like a skunk on a cat or before my daughter has the chance to ponder about my impatience…I will choose to live in the present, alive.