Marrakech: and a tale of adding hours

You know when you've had a really good weekend?  The kind where it's a weekend like others -- only 48 hours -- but yet, it feels as if it were longer somehow?  Like extra hours slipped in?  Like you managed to manipulate time in some curious Madeleine l'Engel way?

{Oh, why am I explaining?  I know you know what I mean.}

What I'm trying to say is that I want one of those sorts of weekends.  And I want one for you, too.  I think the key is to not let it rush by in some kind of blur.  But rather to savor it, to chew it slowly, to appreciate each moment and to say to yourself {often} Oh! I'm here right now!   And then be in it, really in it.

Because, after all, life is not just planning for the future.  It's where we are right now.

Washington DC: and a tale of a true confession

Here’s the thing: I’m not that smart, I am not that special, I have no mind-altering skills. I’m a regular person. I have flaws – many. I do the wrong thing – often. I have petty jealousies – loads. I fall on my face -- more than you can possibly imagine.

But here’s the other thing: Every day, every single day, is a chance to do better, to live with more grace, to take that moment – that tiny moment in between something happening and your response -- and to think twice.

In a world filled with quick fixes -- to ten steps to finding a lover and two weeks to a slimmer you -- this is the hard stuff. Because this is about character, about integrity, about the long haul. This is about making yourself proud, even if no one pats you on the back.

Evolution is possible but one trait is necessary: determination – mine and yours -- to raise the bar. It’s about our interactions with our spouse, our child, our coworker, and the stranger in the street. It’s about right now, one hour from now, tonight.

Forget about yesterday – it’s over. But today is a whole new chance.

I’m trying today. Are you?

 

Marrakech: and a tale of not really werewolves

Do you mind....do you mind checking under my bed? Did you see that the moon is full?  He asked.

Yes, I saw, I said.

Are you ever afraid of the dark? he asked.

I am, sometimes, I admitted. 

He nodded his head.  It's easy to be scared, he said.  But  there's nothing under my bed, is there? 

No, I replied.

I think I knew that, he said. And he laughed a little laugh.

His sister, though, approached things differently. 

You see, she had realized this important truth:

If you don't venture into the dark,

you won't ever really believe.....

that the werewolves......? 

Well, they exist only in your head.

 

 

 

Marrakech: and a tale of a broken heart

I knew from the way that he looked at her, that it was over.  That I had lost him somehow.  He had crossed over to that other place where 11 year old creatures with long locks were infinitely more intriguing.  For them, yes, for them, he would tell his best stories, enticingly embellished.  For them, just for them, he would dash up the mountain, pretending he was not out of breath.  For them, only for them, he would share his headset..watching, waiting to see……. if they smiled back, if they tossed their hair, if they looked at him out of the corner of their eye

As for me, I had become just…..just a mother.  Nothing more, nothing better, nothing special.  The one who told him to brush his teeth, to pick up his shoes, to do his homework.  I now lived in that grey place of regret over squandered moments.  The ones where I didn’t pay attention because I was too busy, or too distracted, or too selfish.  All those moments, now gone, when his best had been just…just for me.