Life's Little Moments

Portia after tasting one of her sauces!

 
Perhaps I am getting old. I am not really sure how you tell. Color of hair isn't exact enough. Wrinkles - well, genes are partially to blame. That and growing up in the "tan" generation. Creaks in your bones, maybe. Having less energy and enthusiasm - that seems like it may happen. All of the above, that would make me believe it is headed in that direction.
When I was growing up, my father told me he was going to live to be very old.  At least 100. He didn't. He died at 59. He also told me he was going to buy me a horse - that didn't happen either. I suppose I could believe that nothing anyone tells me, especially someone I adore, is true. Instead, I believe that he wanted both of those things to be true, just didn't make them happen.
Twenty-five years ago, someone told me to picture myself in the future during a visualization class. They worked up to it - see yourself in five years, ten years, fifteen years. I couldn't see past five. I was sure I was going to die soon. Reasonable assumption? No. But, reason doesn't really effect how we see life, death and growing old in between.

 Kashmir guarding the ceramic cats

Lately, I have been faced with how short our lives are. I wish I had some of this insight much sooner in life. I wish I could have told my dad that it was ok about the horse. And, that it was ok that he didn't live to be 100.

When I was in law school, another student, female, told me that one day saying what I thought, so much and so truthfully would make me wish I had shut up. But, instead, the things I am sorry about, are the times I did shut up. The things I didn't say. The things I held back.

It seems to me, life is that way. For some of us. The things we are going to regret with the last breath are those things left undone. Life's little moments that make such deep crevices in our heart and soul. The grand things, are overdone. They are so glorified that we live them out. All the feelings about them are exhausted in their brief moment. And they become just events. Not treasured moments. Not those secret seconds when you know with your soul that this is what true happiness feels like.

My pets are maturing. Faster than I can believe. I am mourning not savoring more of those secret seconds. Not focusing on them so they will be embedded in my mind brilliantly. Each time we have a mis-step, or a slow day, my morbid mind envisions how sad it will be when they are gone. That is one of the curses of being human. We can imagine the worst. I believe that because they don't do this, is one of the reasons they are always happy to see us. They just don't think that way.

Angus waiting for a taste of Portia's cooking.

Perhaps I am getting old. Or worse yet, perhaps this is what maturity feels like. That is a much scarier thought to me. Because, I don't think you can go back. Once you take up that "mature" gauntlet, I am afraid you are stuck with it. Once you become a sheepdog, you don't get to be a sheep. I know, I am a sheepdog.

So, to my friends, if I have not told you - I treasure your friendship. It is not a large number. I am way too irritating for the masses. And to each of you, I have at least one of those memories when you made my life special. Made me know that, that was what true happiness feels like. 

 Bailey, smiling in the backyard

Raise your glass to those moments. It is not what will be written in your obituary. It is not what will be on your tombstone. It is what will be in your heart.