These are the day of miracle and wonder
These are also the days when my 9 year old tells me I’m embarrassing her (“just a little bit, Mummy”) when I take her to school in my Juicy sweatpants. Does she not realize that these are my daytime sweatpants? (I actually change out of pajama pants into the Juicys in the morning. Just ask my husband who mocks me every single time I do it.)
These are the days when the true friends are the ones you can call up and ask for help with pick-up or drop-off, or if it’s okay if a child comes over to their house for a couple of hours.
These are the days when you start having to have medical tests that are sort of scary. So you text your friends from the waiting room, trying for lightness, when really you’re just terrified.
These are the days of Words With Friends, The Hunger Games, Downton Abbey, US Weekly, Mary Oliver.
These are the days when an evening may include quizzing someone on the multiplication tables (1-12) for 15 minutes, washing someone’s back in a tub overflowing with bubbles, a black tie cocktail party, Gossip Girl, or too many glasses of wine at the local dive bar. Or all of the above.
These are the days when some friends are doing cleanses, and others are subsisting on white wine and peppermint patties, and you oscillate wildly between those two poles.
These are the days when you know who you truly love, and why. You know who your genuinely close friends are.
These are the days when a cancer diagnosis in someone you know is no longer shockingly rare, but becoming, instead, horrifyingly, par for the course.
These are the days when, on your birthday, the children of your old friends call to sing you happy birthday. You can hear the voice of your friend, their mother, and the person who for years was the one doing the singing, in the background.
These are the days of rushing home and taking off your heels – the good pair that you finally bought – and your dress pants and jewelry and pulling on your pjs to read to your children and tuck them in.
These are the days when most of the time you feel 18, but once in a while you feel excruciatingly aware of every single hour you’ve lived.
These are the days of SUVs and minivans, of extra boosters floating around the trunk in case you need to put up the 3rd row, of kids who tell you what radio station to put on and who sing along, knowing every word, to Katy Perry and Taylor Swift and Gym Class Heroes.
These are the days when you cry all the time, often because you feel like your heart is going to burst from the fullness of a single day.
These are the days of miracle and wonder, indeed.
What wonderful and difficult days they are! I may borrow this exercise and do it over at my place. I hope you don’t mind.
Indeed.
I decided some time ago to look for the miracles and wonder in everything, every day. Apparently, it had been there all the time. Now I see it, everywhere I look.
Thank you for the lovely reminder. You may have started a trend!
XOXO
This made my heart smile. My head is swimming with your words, the Cranberries song and thoughts of the polarity of life. The line that grabbed me was “excruciatingly aware of every single hour you’ve lived”. What is it about certain days and circumstances that make this so true?
Beautiful and poignant as ever. I, myself, have been trying to appreciate the small, everyday moments like making cupcakes and catching the sunrise on the way to work. To see that just another day is never just another day. Thank you for the reminder of how amazing our lives are.
How beautiful and true this is… I agree that we should all write our own. Such a powerful exercise.
i feel the pain and sorrow, joy and gratitude all swimming through the miracles and wonders…this living dialectic has consumed me too (especially since 2012 began and my girlfriends’ stories have revealed the transformation of both trauma and bliss). hope you feel the love-soaked embrace through this virtual space (accompanying you through whatever today invites you to experience).
Beautiful and inspiring. May we all be so aware of the beauty and pain that surrounds us. Thank you for reminding us to take notice.
Yes. I just love this. These are the days of dancing with my five year old in the morning while my coffee gets cold. Wouldn’t trade this miracle and wonder for anything….
Your writing inspires me. Thank you for these reminders. I am amazed at the contradictions in my own life and how I see-saw between hope/wonder and melancholy/despair.
I’ve only recently discovered the joy of sneaking off to a happy hour with Alisha. On the most recent Parent’s Night Out at the school, we hit a local happy hour and actually felt like adults for an hour or two!
These are the days when ….. it looks like many people, besides myself, stop by here first thing every morning, hoping for a nugget that makes their days a little more meaningful than if we had skipped this stop. Take care, Lindsey. Thinking of you.
Oh, MK, this makes me cry. Thank you so much. xox
So gorgeous and bittersweet and lovely. Thank you, Lindsey.
Beautiful and inspiring, as usual. *sigh* You are a wonder, yes, you.
These are the days when I read about those days ad realize how far behind me they are. So glad you remind me how rich and full life was then! It is still, but in such a different way! Beautiful reflections.
Lovely, Lindsey. As usual. And heartbreaking. SO February, it seems.
May steal “These are the days” exercise one of these days.
This is brilliant. I found myself nodding my head with each line, feeling connected and universal and *normal*. That was a gift today. Thank you (and apologies in advance if I copy the exercise to do on my own).
Gorgeous post, Lindsey. You capture life, in this moment, right now, so beautifully. xoxo
this was so lovely in every way.
This is wonderous and wonderful and I feel like you captured my day perfectly! I change from my PJs to my Juicy and the rest of the day is all of this…capturing the moments of wonder. Love love love.