So much of my life is thinking about the big picture.
Getting us all out the door with clean underwear on.
Mapping out the week's dinners.
Making sure the house is running smoothly.
Staying on top of my students' repertoire and performances.
This week I've been reminded that the quality of life is in the details.
For example, right now I'm drinking a glass of wine and listening to jazz while boiling noodles for our pasta dinner tonight.
I'm as happy as a clam.
Or as content as a baby tightly swaddled with a full belly. (A lot of our friends are having babies right now. Happy happy)
On Tuesdays and Thursdays my alarm goes off at 5 am. I stretch and rub my eyes. I grab my phone and scroll through social media for 4 minutes, trying to let as little light as possible enter my eyes. I spend those 4 minutes convincing myself to get up. That I might as well get up since I won't be able to go back to sleep. That I'm already awake.
Inevitably, when I get home at 7 and I've got a cup of coffee in my hands, I'm glad that I've gotten up have checked an item off my to-do list.
When I first started going to Masters swim, just the thought of Al (swim teacher?coach?) standing beside the pool, would propel me out of bed and to the gym. This oldest child-people pleaser doesn't want to let anyone down. And then I missed one morning and realized it wasn't the end of the world and Al doesn't really care that much if I come or not and suddenly my 4 minute pep talks were turning into 6 minutes.
The gym opens at 4:45 and while I'm mortified by my early alarm, there are people leaving the gym as I head in. And we can't forget the staff who must be there before everyone else.
The front desk personnel changes periodically and one of these changes happened about 2 months into my new routine. There was a staff worker, now on the morning shift, that I'd recognized from previous weekend visits.
At first it was just kind of mumbled, under his breath, before I logged in. "Hi Emily."
But the next week, it was a little louder and more confident and I was sure that he was talking to me.
It's not totally weird that he would know my name, since when I log in, my picture pops up on the screen, but he remembered it from previous visits and now it's this whole thing. Like, I don't know his name so do I ask? And it's been a month now, of him saying hi to me and I haven't asked yet, so is it weird to suddenly say, "hey, by the way, what's your name?"
And while, it's a little awkward, in reality, it's actually really nice, to know that someone has noticed you and makes an effort to say hi to you by name. Especially at 5:30 in the morning.
In fact, when I want to skip my early morning swim, I'm motivated by the thought that he might notice I've missed.
Little things.
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We had a wonderful Easter. The highlight of the day was listening to some of our friends play Peter and the Wolf in the most delightful setting.
{photo by Douglas Hahn}
It was a full day, with lots of little details that added to its loveliness.
Vintage light up signs that point to the stage.
1910 pianos placed in the bed of a model T.
{photo by Douglas Hahn}
The simplest pleasure of sitting outside, listening to good music filled me with gratitude.
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Spring has arrived in Wichita.
With the blooming of daffodils and tulips come the inherent spring winds. While I grew up with foggy Bay Area mornings, my girls will associate their childhoods with wind howling outside the house.
The trees are full of white and purple flowers. Everything is growing and pushing through the soil, little buds whose mettle is proved against the fierce wind. Growing especially enthusiastically is our grass. In fact, we basically had a meadow in our front yard this weekend. It was kind of pretty, but also kind of embarrassing because last Saturday EVERYONE ELSE in the world was mowing their lawn and there we were, wild and untamed.
And we would have been EVERYONE ELSE, if our lawn mower wasn't broken. It broke at the end of the fall and due to a series of events, it has been near impossible to fix. It's fixable, it just appears that the process in which it can be fixed is very convoluted and time consuming.
Every time I pulled up to my house and saw the deer frolicking and bunnies hopping in the tall, gently swaying grass, I would feel anxious and stressed. (Ok, I'm exaggerating. No deer, but definitely bunnies.)
Until Tuesday. When I came home and was greeted by the sight of a beautifully edged and newly sheared lawn.
It's such a small thing, yet the sight of a well tended lawn brings such peace and comfort.
Our lawn mower is still broken by the way.
And I want to tell you, that a not-so-small act of love and graciousness and kindness is responsible for our manicured lawn and consequently my lowered stress level.
You see, I've got this student, who is remarkable and special in his own right and comes from some truly extraordinary people.
Miss Alicia, or Malicia as Ruby likes to call her, listened to my apologies for their trek through the over grown terrain to the front door, and story about our lawn during her son's lesson on Tuesday.
Later that day while I was teaching, I got this text:
I was gobsmacked.
And humbled.
And speechless.
And deeply touched.
It's still hard for me to find words to describe what how this not-so-little gesture made me feel.
If you ever come across people like this in your life, hold on to them. Not because they do things for you, but because they listen and care and make this world a better place.
Alicia and Jed and Carson, thank you for your kindness to our family. You are such special people.
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So here I am, at the end of the semester. A time in which I typically find myself exasperated and irritated with everyone.
But instead, I'm finding small (and large) reminders that life is good. That there is much to be grateful for.
Evening light.
Spring temperatures.
Intentional hellos.
Friends who listen and care.
Good food and drink.
Antique quilts.
Music.
I am reminded that if I care about the quality of the details, the big picture is going to look pretty great.