This is about the simple things, right? Those things that are so forgettable that we tend to overlook them in their moments, and gloss quickly to the next item in our day. Skipping right to the awful, the frustrating, the mind-blowing, the hilarious.
Which leaves a day full of whispers that we won't hear if we don't stop for a bit. Focus.
So here goes the focus. The simple things I've been appreciating lately in an attempt to hear the whispers:
A breeze on wet skin
Curly baby-hairs after a swim
Impromptu dance parties
Melted marshmallows stuck to cheeks
Mama? I need a hug.
Wide, shy eyes
Squealing over grasshopper hunts
Elbows and heels stretching my middle out
Sweaty glasses of ice water
A new box of crayons
Moonlit nights serenaded by bugs
A pillow supporting this belly
An email from a friend
The smell of sunscreen
Vacuum tracks on the floor
Here, Mia! You can have one of mine!
Beds made by a 5-year-old
Songs made by a 3-year-old
There you go, Lauren -- I found your blankie.
Cold hose water
A task checked off a list
An unexpected refund
Sisters holding hands
An early bedtime
Giggles in the dark with my husband
I want to help, mama!
And if you put all of those whispers together, it becomes quite overwhelmingly loud. Louder than all the heat and bickering and possibility for disaster. Louder than boredom. Louder than frustration. Louder than perfect days and perfect outcomes. So loud, in fact, that they become the truth of our days, and all the other things become peripheral.
The whispers are the things that will sustain us when we're old, thinking back on our days as young families, making our lined faces crinkle with remembered laughter. The whispers will remain when all the major things fall by the wayside. It's the whispers that matter most.
But only if we take the time to notice them.