It’s the simple things.
That’s the truth about everything. Every situation, every moment of joy, every struggle– it’s something simple that gets at the heart of it, something simple that becomes the solution.
(Except getting children to go to bed. Oh my gosh, the last few nights they have really been fighting it…)
Anyway, today the kids spent a really long time looking for their flashlights, which are still missing but sure to be found since we haven’t been anywhere in weeks. Instead they played with a sound machine that flashes stars on the ceiling. Yelps of delight, whoops and hollers of laughter filtered out of the room where they were playing. And this went on for a good 30 minutes.
The room looked like a tornado had hit, but somehow I just fell in love with the mess. All these simple little pieces–Baby dolls and books, blankets and bears–the mattress on the floor that I mentioned the other day and the sound machine from when they were babies–these things filled their imaginations today and created the sounds of pure joy. For some weird reason (perhaps a case of delusional, quarantine dimensia) I feel such love for these items and their chaotic arrangement around the room.
This I think is what people are talking about these days with body love. I’m especially talking about the moms who have jelly bellies after pregnancy. I want to love my post-ballerina, post-pregnancy body the way I love that mess the girls made today. The mess was the vehicle for all of their happiness this morning. And my belly was also a vehicle like that. I’m sad to admit that I don’t I love my belly the way I loved that messy room today. But at least I get the idea now of how it might feel to do so.
Tomorrow is a new day. Until then,