Let’s face it; Life gets noisy.
There’s a lot going on, many to consider, options, options and even more options. There are other people’s feelings, timetables, expectations. Noise.
It’s far too easy to forget all of the beautiful things in life and how lovely our world truly is…
The other day I sat out on my porch to read. The weather was perfect, there was still enough sunlight, and I was tired of being inside. I started off with my nose stuck in my book, my mind veering off into the world the author created for me. Then I heard these little footsteps.
They were tiny, almost inaudible, so they couldn’t have been human. I stopped reading and looked up from my book. The steps stopped. I started reading again about the storms in Bali and how that effects the rice farmers. The little steps started again. This time, I didn’t move my book or make any sudden movements with my head. I simply peeled my eyes from the pages and looked out of the side of my eyes: sharply left, sharply right. I tilted my book in just the slightest degree, eyebrows raised, eyes open wide. It was a little grey bird. Looking right at me. Just as curious as I was.
The second I said, “Awww” aloud, the little bird scurried away into a bush.
So I returned to my reading. It wasn’t long before I had to put the book down again. And not in a “stop disturbing me” frustrated plop-the-book-down manner, but because I couldn’t help but notice… I was being rude. There was so much life going on around me, showcasing its beauty, and here I was reading?! Every insect had decided to play their instrument that night, which somehow blends perfectly together to form an entire symphony. Bugs that I couldn’t identify, have probably screamed at and run wildly from [and quite possibly have squished its relatives] were all playing.
A little girl in my neighborhood was learning how to ride her very first bicycle. Covered in pads from head to toe, she would never have been able to get back up had she fallen, but she didn’t care. She just peddled along. “Daddy, look!”
Then the couple who always walks their little fuzzy dogs. The two women have been life partners for years; own a house together, support and love each other, along with the little dogs and their family members who occasionally come to visit. I waved. They waved. Every night and every morning, they walk together, talk together. It pains me that this love, their love, is not recognized in our Commonwealth.
A little bunny rabbit dashes across the front yard, sending the fuzzy dogs into a frenzy.
I can smell the family behind my house is grilling, and I can hear their laughter and the clinks of their wine glasses (the clinks also in rhythm with the insect orchestra).
As the sun withered away into darkness, I picked up my book, opened the door and walked inside.
All is well. All is as it should be.