Anticipation. The story of our lives. I remember as a little girl, driving my parents crazy about my birthday.
“350 days until my birthday,” I would sing.
“Today is my half birthday!” I would report. Nobody cared.
“100 more days until my birthday.”
“One more week ’til my birthday.”
It was enough to drive everybody crazy (and it did). Did I ever mention that my brothers and parents used to pay me money to stop talking? Well it’s true.
And then the day would arrive… finally… in all it’s splendor. The next day was depressing though: “364 days until my next birthday,” I would report unhappily (I was probably less upset than my family though, realizing that a 364 day countdown was imminent).
As a fifty year old I actually savor every last day until my next birthday, but I can still completely relate to the feeling of waiting,
and then it is over in the blink of an eye. Like my friend Lorrie’s visit this week, which ended one second after it started – seriously.
Visits from friends who live far away,
Trips to see family members who are also too far to see often.
Maybe this is why we’re always planning ahead. “What are you doing for the holidays?” I have asked and been asked many, many times in the past few weeks. And why aren’t the holidays themselves enough? Or is it just that if our children have time off we have to run, run, run to see people, places and things, along with all the other families with children who have time off so they are running to see people, places, and things, and now we are all crowded together, paying more, enjoying less.
We need to try and embrace every single day and make it special so we are not always looking ahead and counting the days until “something”. Wake up and smell the coffee. Celebrate something tiny today. For me? I took a yoga class this morning for the first time in three months and I am grateful for that (and my back doesn’t hurt as much as it did a few hours ago either). I am grateful that it’s Friday and that I can spend more time with my husband beginning tonight than I can during the week days when he’s at work.
I’m trying not to count the days until I go to Las Vegas with my son to see my Dad over the holidays. Why? Because my Dad taught me to enjoy each day to its fullest because it could be my last. Also, because the sooner we get there the sooner we will be leaving him again, and beginning the count all over.