It’s January 2012. I had another birthday. I’m now a lofty 43. That’s years. I’ve now officially been with my husband longer than I’ve been without him. That’s strange. And, most days, despite the hair-pulling (my children do it literally, I do it metaphorically), I feel we’ve caught a bit of a groove. There is a routine amidst the chaos of missed phone calls, e-mails checked at stop-lights, lunches packed and unpacked, noses wiped, bottoms, too - children in and out of two different schools. Check written. So many.
But at 43, I can have a bit of perspective on the matter. I can see that our life has shape to it. It has meaning and meaningful moments. We can enjoy the process - not all of the time - but most. The best is when it’s just us. The 4 of us . No in-laws on either side - no matter how well-intentioned. No birthday parties. No travel. No nothing, but our home, our overgrown grass, and our aging dog. Nothing more complicated than a walk to collect lady-bugs and release them in our overgrown grass, never to see them again. Futile perhaps, but satisfying to all nonetheless. The few minutes when they crawl on arms and tickle and then surprise us by taking flight.
A certain satisfaction from the small moments can come because I am personally more satisfied than I’ve been in a long time. I am in the midst of another documentary - tentatively called, “Rich Hill, USA.” More on that soon….