It must have rained in the night, because the edges of the sidewalk are dark where the wet grass hangs over. There is more than dew on the lawn; everything is heavy and damp.
As is our normal course of morning action, we are almost late, Mia and I. She ambles down the sidewalk, looking everywhere but forward. Her eyes are on her feet, the wall, the yard, the sky, the tree, the bricks, the roses, the clouds. My eyes, however, are fixed on the back of her head, willing her to move faster. I crowd her steps -- if she will move to one side, I can at least get to the car before she does, and open the door. But she waxes and wanes across my path. I'm good and stuck.
"Move faster, sweetie, we need to get going." A singsong tone always makes me feel less irritating, and more encouraging. My daughter, undoubtedly, feels otherwise. She stops mid step, making me stumble over her and her giant backpack.
My foot lands just to one side of Mia as she squats down to the ground.
"Oh, mama, LOOK!"
But she's stagnant where we need to be flowing, and I grumble. "Babe, we can't stop. We need to get in the car!"
"It's a SLUG, mama!"
I look down, despite myself. Ugh. Nasty. "Mmhmm, it's a slug, now let's go." I lift my foot and feel a slippery-sliding lack of friction against the concrete. I look; Mia looks; we gasp; I gag.
"Mama! You stepped on one! You smashed it! Ewwww...."
I scrape my shoe over the ground, imagining a gooey protruding eye on a stalk of wormy flesh, and it becomes clear to me that dawdling would have been preferable to hurrying this morning. If I'd been moving as achingly slowly as Mia had been, I would have seen the slugs before smashing one underfoot.
I watch the ground during the last few steps to the car. I don't need any more wayward, slimy creatures underfoot to teach me how to slow down. I'll just follow the dawdling child's lead instead.
Every Thursday, we come together to share the harvest of intentional
living by capturing a glimpse of the Bigger Picture
through a simple moment. Join the Bigger Picture Community at
Corinne's place today! Reflect upon
something simple — or simply magical — that’s resonated with you this week, then
share it with us!