And the grumpiest babies will exhaust, nay, enervate their mothers and floors shall always hoard crumbs and and and AND. Mixed in with the wealth of goodness and endless joys are the crazy makers of life, it’s a fine balance that needs to be kept, it requires one to become a master of stealing moments.
Because tomorrow when we wake up the floors and whining and the army of “ands” will still exist, while magic may happen everyday so does its counterpart. None of this will change.
So, at the end of the whiniest day, a new chair calls from the green grass speckled with weeds. It sits under the charming and interesting branches of a cluster of trees. Especially that one branch straight out of a great novel. The air is full of tiny white puffs floating and swaying in the springtime air. Leaves rustle and birds serenade.
A cup of tea steams and succumbs to the direction of the wind. The sun begins to sink and wash across the green stretch one last time. Brilliant words of a book fill you with reverie and you want to read them to anyone who will listen, but the squirrels show no interest, so you read them aloud to the breeze, perhaps they will be carried and land upon eager ears, but if not, they seep into your soul.
The sky brews a stronger shade of vibrant as the keeper of light descends, leaving those who will notice with a mesmerizing and momentary piece of art. Tonight it’s the softest blush.
And by stealing this moment, each breath feels lighter, the tougher parts release their grip, because tomorrow will be brand new and God knew to make babies extra cute for the most frazzling days.
All of it, this is life and we must stop wishing away the hard, instead, we must steal the moments that renew and refresh. We must become zealous in our pursuits to fill the reservoirs.
Perhaps stealing is a poor choice of words, because these glimpses of beauty and sweet life-giving air belong to us all. And in the name of sanity, we must claim them or be swallowed into the heavy world, where they go forever ignored.
Sweet aroma rises from my cup. Trees turn into shadows against the sky. The melody to the song of the birds changes. A chill sweeps across my shoulder. This moment for today and new mercies tomorrow.
Just Write- a group of brilliant people who take steal moments with words.