I was just about to begin writing a piece that’s been ruminating in my head for a while when I take pause to “just be here,” as my friend reminds me so often. At the beginning of summer, I created this room– this space, just for me. My study. I filled it with things and words that are important to me; a room couldn’t better reflect me than this one. And here I sit in the morning, ready to write. My son is here, laying on my daybed listening to music. And a few minutes later, my daughter joins, plopping herself in the arm chair just simply daydreaming, listening to music, perhaps, while I’m madly typing on my laptop. No one says a thing. Until, in unison, they begin to sing… “If you really wanna’ go where you can find me, I’ll be unwinding…” (Zac Brown Band).
And all I feel is contentment, just a warmth that comes from the core of my being at the irony that my place, meant originally for escape, quiet, privacy, has actually become a meeting place for my kids to just be in my presence.
It makes me aware that this is one of those moments, when in the midst of it, I recognize happiness.