Wesley and I had a moment together after his nap on Saturday. We looked out the window and saw a squirrel on a branch.
We noticed his complete stillness. It prompted me to tell him that even squirrels are still sometimes, even though they are known for their scurry. In the days since, our family keeps returning to the thought, let's be still as a squirrel.
This thought finds me at my 31st birthday. I am a creature more prone to scurry than stilling. But it is possible even for me. It may be unnatural, but finally I see a branch reaching out to me where perhaps I will not be so consumed by the next thing I need to run to, collect, store.
I am seeing an opportunity to store a moment, more so, to break it open and savor it now.
My February birthdays can be full of flurry, but this year I find myself savoring the simplest things from my 31 years: a meal made just how I like it, a contemplative drive with music, a new plant in my home, a conversation with my friend by the fire, a message that I'm thought of, a growing-life kick to my belly, conversations about the nature of squirrels, a comforting thought that we will both be here, focused, cracking open the moments together tomorrow morning.
I'm learning conditions are always perfect for an unnatural pause.
I'm as still as a squirrel.
