A crystalline moment of mindfulness at the end of a long day: standing outside the office, watching a heavy rain fall. I'd been fumbling for my keys but got caught up in the vastness of the moment. The whoosh of a million tiny raindrops hitting the pavement. The patterns on the puddles as each drop hits the surface and ricochets back up toward gray sky. The bathwater air.
This is my life. And this is my life. And this is my life. And I am happy.
Downed trees on the drive home. Snarled traffic. Stories of hail. The boys have made a hideout in the living room by tipping the Cozy Coupe on one side and draping a blanket over the top.
"Forget I'm here," the oldest instructs from inside. "Forget I'm in here, and then find me."
So I do.