I Wonder

I was laying next to her last night, my love. Just laying there looking at the ceiling. The ceiling fan was going round and round. The room was silent except for the occasional licking from one of the dogs on the floor, my least favorite sound. But it wasn’t bothering me. I was just laying there, thinking about nothing. My body and my mind were at peace.

And that never to happens to me. I mean rarely am I thinking about nothing. I just felt rested, at rest, I just felt silent.

I never feel that way. I am usually thinking seven hundred thoughts at once. I am rarely present.

Except lately. Lately I feel this peaceful quiet body and mind a lot.

It’s weird and it’s good.

I turned to her and asked if she thought it’s just easier to be happy when we get older? She needed more information about my random midnight musings in order to answer.

Maybe we just appreciate happiness more when we are older.

Or maybe I am just a ridiculous person in love and it’s fleeting, although I don’t think so because I have been in love before.

But not like this. Not this peaceful way. This certain way. This completely present way.

Or maybe, just maybe, it takes completely falling to pieces and surviving it, and even thriving after falling apart to truly appreciate a silent bedroom (except for that damn licking) and a beautiful love and a simply quiet and perfect moment?

Like the Leonard Cohen song:

“Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.”

The light isn’t blinding me. But it’s there. It emanates. I don’t know if other people can see it. And I honestly don’t care that much if they do.

My life isn’t perfect. I am little unsettled at work. I am worried about my middle child and his vaping and the worry grows in my mind at times into visions of his future battling the nicotine demon the way I have. My daughter is going through a phase where she seems off kilter and not quite happy with her life the way I dream she will be. I think about it a lot, how to help her, how to say the right things to be the mom she needs. I want to be a safe place for her to lean on and not the nagging mom who drives her crazy. And my little one who is certainly not little at all, just can’t seem to avoid being the class clown and getting himself in trouble with his antics. Not juvenile delinquent trouble, but enough missteps to worry me a bit. I feel stressed about wrecking my car and paying my property taxes next month and all the general stresses of life…clutter, and dogs that pee on the floor, and bills that seem bigger than they should be and family that is too far away or too disconnected for us to feel like family.

So I am not living in lala land of love drunkness.

But I feel fine. And good. And grateful.

Peaceful.

I am laying here, alone, surrounded by sleeping dogs. No one in this moment is licking, thank god. I just ran a few miles because I wanted to be outside before it got dark. All the smells of my neighborhood still echo in my memory from the run. It was such a good run.

Fireplaces even though it’s still 60 degrees out. You can feel the cold front coming but the temperature hasn’t dropped. Lots of people arriving for family gatherings. It’s still the holidays and my neighbors driveways are filled with cars. I smelled cooking and BBQ’s. And I heard the beautiful sound of children squealing and laughing in the backyards.

I passed a neighbor walking her dog and our dogs pulled toward each other and I called out “good morning” as I remembered it’s evening and I felt silly for a moment as I continued running, fighting the instinct to turnaround and yell, “I mean good evening”.

And all the while, I just kept coming back to this new feeling I have lately.

Of peacefulness. Contentedness.

And I wonder again, if it’s age, or heartbreak finally healed and light shining through like the Leonard song said it would, or if it’s the love of the right person.

I wonder what it is.

I wonder if everyone feels this way and I just haven’t yet.

I wonder if I will get used to feeling this way and take it for granted.

I hope not.

I really hope not. Because I could get used to this.

 

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