I love days like today when meals are simple and cooked by 9 am. The hours between breakfast and lunch are stretched and slow. My son goes from a puzzle to his books and then to his toys. He stops and lingers at each object, taking his time before moving on, asking only for my presence nearby. I can let my thoughts wander while he plays. He doesn’t mind if I appear distant or if I don’t answer every single one of his questions. I can slip away for a few minutes to check on laundry or something on the stove. He will continue to play because he knows nothing is coming up. He knows that there is no reason to hurry or be clingy.
But days like today are few and far between.
Most days are at the mercy of tantrums (his), moods (mine), ambitious meal ideas or outdoor activities(always mine), wildfires, and viruses.
That makes days like today extra special. It is that same feeling you feel after enjoying a perfect slice of cake at a friend or family gathering. Do you know that feeling?
Everyone is chatting. You hear the clinks of spoons against bowls and plates. But all those sounds and voices appear muffled because you have with you a perfect slice of cake. Not too big that you feel nauseous after eating or too small that you’re left wanting for more. But that perfect slice of cake which you relish slowly, methodically with eyes closed and lips curved into a smile.
After the cake is polished off, you run your spoon around the plate to pick up crumbs that you missed. Then with a final lick of lips, you place the plate on a table nearby and lean back against your chair. Only then do the sounds and voices around you return to the foreground. Your mouth sings melodies of sugar and butter and cream. You join the conversation, content with that one slice of cake.
Today felt like that.