Right Now

My right nows fill my days with unexpected tidbits.

Early this morning's now found me grimacing from the demands of my darling children. Clingy, tired and needy, they seemed to want to suck me dry. Panic descends when my beautiful children, (whom I thought I was supposed to enjoy at all moments (ahem)) swirl, nip, demand everything at the exact same time and drive me up and down the wall again...Truly, their needs this morning were benign and normal...my lack of sleep and cold removed my coping skills and patience. These moments, the ones where I'm bitchy and crabby and intolerant, I wish that a large pink eraser would allow me to edit that moment away....

But.

I know, as I've reflected many times before, that the splendid nature of the next moment would be lost, merely beigey-blending into all the other nows.

I jettison my past beliefs that all nows need to fit a prescribed mold.

As other nows, past and future nows, intersect and meet, I gasp at their brazen ability to deliver such vastly different experiences. Other nows hold wafting of yummy cooking smells as hubby prepares tasty morsels in the kitchen while I fling pounds of wet clothes from washer to dryer, peacefully folding, flinging, repeating. Henry and Abby playing happily (no screaming, no one-upmanship, no mediation required). We suspended in the bliss of that moment's bubble.

This now, the one I embrace as I write, arrived on the wings of a cool, dry breeze. The house sits quietly and I sit with it. The weather--crisp with a side of early fall--allows me to wear my fall uniform of faded gray cargos, Woodstock t-shirt and it's-seen-better-days black, fleece vest. My sunglasses sit perched on top of my head. Yesterday's eye make rests smudged under my eyes. Open windows invite the smells and sounds of late summer into my office.

I breathe. In and out. Relishing this now.