I was laying in bed.
It was early. I wasn’t tired, but I was laying in bed. The fella has to be at work at 4am, so he was turning in early. Since our work schedules keep us from spending a tremendous amount of time together, it was a good time to (ugh!! How girly?!?) cuddle. No ‘adult content’ here, simply laying snuggled up under blankets watching Lord of the Rings. He dozed off and I laid there noticing the Blu-ray player’s audio favors sound effects over dialog.
A few minutes passed. The fella is peacefully snoring, and I am soon surrounded by the chorus of the peaceful. Both dogs, in separate beds but still touching each other, were peacefully snuffling and occasionally making those endearing noises dogs make in their sleep as they must be dreaming of chasing all the squirrels and playing in all the trash cans. As I laid there, the only one in the room NOT sleeping, it occurred to me that in that moment I was entirely at peace. I wanted to fold that moment up and keep it forever.
I don’t know if it is due to my approaching early middle age, or a simple sense of seasonal melancholy, but lately I’ve been very appreciative of these ephemeral moments. Those fleeting things that we have for enchanted seconds.
The welcome home hug that seems to last forever, but just not long enough. The familiar smell of the person I love.
The elder pup who knows that any time you are sitting on the toilet she will have at least thirty seconds of your undivided attention. Walking in, she cocks her head sideways as if to say, “Funny meeting you here again.” and positions herself for whatever area she wants scratched…and snorts her delight.
My younger pup who lays her head back against my knee as I sit on the couch. She looks at me, face nearly upside-down, with a gaze full of unconditional love of which I do not feel deserving.
Watching my mother’s hands as she sews, and her constant expression of serenity no matter how hard the boat is rocking.
The look of intense concentration and dedication as my father shows anyone how to do anything…because he can do anything.
I want to remember all of these moments. The fleshy warmth and weight of the chicken whose life I watched slip away so that people might eat. The smell and sound of my favorite creek as the sticky August breeze blows through the thick oak and hemlock forest. The dirt under my fingernails from planting things, and the joy of watching them grow, fruit, and yield. The sweat and pain of a hard days work for which the results are visible.
They are too many to list, and yet I beg my brain not to let them go, not to sacrifice them for the sake of a grocery list or the project at work. Let go of the 90’s song lyrics, but lock these things up and never let them go, because I feel that without them I will lose part of myself.