“Mama, watch me!” says one. “Rachie, Rachie, watch!” says the other. These are the voices I heard last weekend when Cooper’s younger cousin, Canyon, got to come play. They were full of energy and excitement that never ceased.
We went to the pool two days in a row, splashing around, kicking and screaming, laughing and making memories. I remembered that these glorious devices we carry around in our pockets come fully equipped with video…not only that, now you can film in slo-mo mode.
Water always seems more detailed and dramatic in slow motion, don’t you agree? So I risked dropping the phone in the pool to catch a slo-mo video of these littles. I’ve watched it about 10 times since then, something about it keeps me coming back again and again.
I realized that what captures me the most is how I can appreciate more of what I am seeing. Even the tiniest and most insignificant detail seems more important.
What if we lived more life in slo-mo?
What would we notice? What might we learn, or better yet remember, to appreciate?
Imagine a butterfly’s rapid wings slowing enough to witness their beauty. Picture your grandchild blinking and their eyelashes moving so slowly you could count each one. Think of someone you love starting to smile while each earned crevasse and line gracefully appears.
These tiny moments are the ones worth remembering. These are the ones too easy to take for granted.
If I close my eyes, I can slow down so many of Audrey’s moments. The grasp of my finger, the blink of an eye, the wiggle of a toe or the flex of a foot. These moments make up life. These moments are living.
A special friend of mine is fighting alongside her husband who is living a fierce battle. I don’t pretend to be able to comprehend all that they are going through both as individuals and as a married couple with a beautiful daughter. I think of my friend so often, aching for her…for him…for them. Wishing so badly that words could heal. But this week, while contemplating life, as I often do, I thought of her and that word, “slow”, weighed heavy on my heart for her. I haven’t shared this with her yet, mainly because I’m not sure how this word applies in her life at this moment. Maybe she does.
Our world is fast and ever-changing. Our social media newsfeeds rapidly shift from cute baby video to horrific breaking news to someone complaining about the driver who didn’t turn right on red.
We go from Park to Drive without easing through neutral.
Neutral…at times boring I suppose, but oddly enough it sounds like a breath of fresh air to me. Kind of like hitting pause, not driving forward or reversing backward, yet not completely stopped in park…just a momentary pause. A blink…a catch of the breath.
Chris and Cooper are my living reasons to slow down and gaze at butterfly wings. And Audrey? She will forevermore be the person who taught me how.
Our daughter. My teacher.
Thank you my darling baby…thank you.
Live in slo-mo this weekend. Put it in neutral for a minute or two each day and just…seek the joy.
Love + Hugs, R