The Pressure of a Million Perfect Moments
….and of living everyday like it may be your last.
As I walked into my living room, my Mom said to me, ‘Sarah, it wasn’t Aunt Norma that died.’ Confused, I scanned the room. After a moment, I realized the only person missing was my Dad. It was my Dad who had died. My healthy, young, best friend, superman, most amazing guy in the world Dad, was dead. Tragic cave diving accident. And then it came out like a beast fighting the worst of captivities. Screaming. I threw a chair. Fell to the ground and noticed I was losing my vision. After a few weeks of confusion and some glimmers of hope, it began. The quest for nothing less than perfect moments for the rest of my life. Because who knows if you’ll live to see tomorrow.
Since losing my Dad, I’ve been consumed by orchestrating perfect moments and big experiences. Weekends of museum exhibits, professional sporting events, Cirque du Soleil shows and the theater, jetting off for weekend get-aways. But let’s not stop there. Even within the comforts of my own home, I’m guilty of pressuring for the perfect moment. If my husband were to come home from work and (gasp!) sit on the couch and check CNN, I was on his case for ‘wasting a moment he could have spent with his Son.’ Truly, it’s a hard way to live. Not only is it exhausting, deep down it’s driven by fear of loss and not having another day.
This past holiday break, our little nuclear family was solo. Our extended family and most of our friends were traveling, and it was flat out freezing. Breaking the routine of go-go-go for our family, we stayed in a lot. We played a ton of Monopoly. We read books together. We piled on the couch with the 3 of us and our 2 dogs and watched TV. It was one of the most lovely weeks I’ve ever had. I had no desire to go-go-go.
Don’t get me wrong…. I think different and outside-of-the-box experiences are great. I love the thought of my son’s imagination and daydreams going wild after a Cirque du Soleil show. I love the motivation he feels and how many baskets he shoots after watching an NBA game. I love the scenes he recreates after seeing a museum exhibit on Vikings. But, I’ve also loved the hell out of the things I’ve learned from him since my mind was opened to the idea of ‘slowing down.’
I’ve learned that he really loves to go on walks. Not for the express purpose of getting from point A to B, but just to walk. Without an agenda and without a speed, but just to walk. I’ve learned that when he’s walking near any body of water, he becomes so vivid and free. I’ve learned that he doesn’t think the saying ‘easy peasy lemon squeezy’ makes sense because lemons aren’t that easy to squeeze. I’ve learned that he wants to pass down his neon mountain bike to his own kids. I’ve learned that he fell from the rope climb in gym class and that his friends call his soccer shoes his ‘magic feet.’
Not that I wasn’t listening before, but somehow, balancing the big and the little, has really allowed me to take more in. I'm not always worrying about keeping track of him in a crowd, trying to find seats and parking and making sure we are checking all the boxes of every floor of the art museum. Perhaps all of this is reminding me that the little moments are, in actuality, often the big ones.
When I think back on my life with my Dad, I remember the big experiences. Of course I do. But I also remember how blue his eyes were when he asked me if I was sure I felt confident going up the scramble part of our last 14’er together. I remember him running upstream through a river to get my Mom’s boat unstuck when she found herself between some fallen trees in a rapid. I remember laying on the couch with him listening to reggae and rock and playing pranks on my Mom.
Someone I know always says, ‘the people who always say no to adventure live less fulfilling and more boring lives.’ I couldn’t disagree more. Adventure is good. Adventure is great. But so are the easy-peazy-lemon-squeezy-stay-home-and-play Monopoly moments that fill up our hearts in the best ways possible.
I’m no expert. But from my own journey, I’m learning balance. I’m learning that not every moment has to be textbook perfect and grand as all get out. We'll still have those experiences, but I’m being easier on myself and redefining my definition of perfect moments and it’s feeling really good.
Blue skies and best,
Sarah
