Once In A Lifetime
It hit me as I walked through the master bedroom of our cozy little suburban ranch house on a clear autumn Saturday afternoon a few years ago.
My husband, John, stood out in the backyard laughing. I peaked through the curtains to see hundreds of bubbles floating in the air. Our two little white toy-poodle boys chased the bubbles and tried to gobble them up as fast as John could blow them out of the tiny wand. John laughed each time a bubble met its fate.
Generally speaking, my programming doesn’t allow me to take the optimistic view. I can find a worry in an ice cream cone. But in a rush on that autumn Saturday, with John and the poodles outside playing, I felt an unusual sense of true peace and contentedness.
My thoughts quickly ran to the rest of my family. My parents at their home. Artistic Mom happily creating her beloved porcelain dolls and Dad outside mowing his lawn with the precision with which others might conduct a scientific experiment. Both of them healthy and hopeful. My daughter off somewhere with her friends, having rebuilt her life after a painful divorce, a great new future ahead of her.
Just an average day, but I recognized it at the time as one of the best days of my life.
I think about this now because a few days ago a friend asked if we have any “once-in-a-lifetime” plans for Memorial Day.
The plans call for us to go to my daughter’s family’s home to have a cookout while our 10-month-old grandson crawls about exploring. We’ll munch on hamburgers, green salad with bottled ranch dressing, watermelon, chocolate brownies made from a mix. We’ll use cheap white paper plates and generic red plastic cups. We’ll wear old clothes. My long hair will be haphazardly tied up out of the way. I might not even wear makeup.
The answer to the question my friend posed: yes.
It’ll be an average day, but it’ll be a day that we’ll never have again. A once-in-a-lifetime chance to treasure family and make lasting memories.
Maybe we’ll even blow bubbles.
8 Responses to “Once In A Lifetime”