Originally published at www.anneeswriting.blogspot.com on April, 2014
My Story unfolds itself in the space between the moments when I am not usually paying that much attention.
There is a moment between the moments that quietly beckons for my attention. The call is so small, a whisper on the wind, it passes and I faintly catch its whiff before it has moved on. The smell though sometimes lingers and I find myself walking through rooms of old memories, snapshots that loom larger than life; a museum filled with artifacts of a life long passed. If, however, I am able to apprehend the moment between the moments, and heed it’s calling I can slow it down, control Time, selfishly manipulate it to sit a while before moving on. In these instances I catch the memories before they happen. I anticipate the wonder and bewilderment of the moment and within the stillness I can write My Story before it unfolds.
Bedtime for me has always been a hurry up, brush your teeth, go potty, let’s read, okay goodnight type of routine. Thankfully for me both my kids have certain habits that slow me down. My first born (my Loyal Companion) picks out a stuffed animal each night and I have to be the stuffed animal and I have to decide where we are going to meet in our dreams. My not so little Bundle of Joy asks me for butterfly kisses and she dictates where on her face these butterfly kisses will land. So many butterfly kisses.
When My Loyal Companion was a mere six years old our nightly reading routine included the Secrets of Droon series. These books propelled his imagination and set off a ritual of crazy adventures that he swore took up his dreams each night. Being the introvert that he is though, he always wanted a partner. After reading to him at night we would talk about where we wanted to go in our dreams. What adventures we wanted to have. We imagined together a massive mansion, each room being a different adventure. Each night when I turned out the lights we would talk about our rooms and we would decide which room to meet up in when our dreams took over. Some nights would be even crazier, with different color slides that would propel us into different rooms.
Over time these conversations were whittled down and unfortunately I cannot tell you what the last room was that we entered together. Stuffed animals entered into our conversation once and it became effortlessly easier for me to expeditiously pick out an animal and a place for us to meet in our dreams. I wrapped up the conversation neatly so that the lights could be turned out quickly. Now, as I ask him which stuffed animal he wants me to be I am perplexed and a bit hurried. There is no time to imagine together. Plus he asks ME to pick out our dream location each night and sometimes, I have to admit, there is no creativity. I fly through it too fast and I am gone. Gone downstairs to do whatever job didn’t get done within the waking hours. He is left. Left to imagine alone. The moment between the moment has passed us by. The smell lingers. It wafts through the rooms. A museum of artifacts.
As I turned out the light and closed the door on my Loyal Companion’s sister this evening my heart was only on the clock. One down. One more to go. Climbing the stairs I yelled out to my Loyal Companion that he better have his PJs on because it was time for bed. As I hit the last stair I realized that my Bundle of Joy had not asked for her ritualistic butterfly kisses. Is this how it happens? One day they realize that I am really not paying all that much attention?
I ran back to her room. She gazed up at me with sleepy, dreamy eyes. I confessed that I had forgotten our butterfly kisses and she opened up to me with one of the hugest hugs I have ever been given and I held on. I had caught the moment between the moments and I refused to let it go.
It was too late as I turned out my Loyal Companion’s light tonight. I was tired. However, a couple of nights ago we had started a new series, Spirit Animals, and as we closed the book I could not help but ask him who he thought his spirit animal was. A smile journeyed across his face and his eyes sparkled. He had an answer and as he talked I listened, deeply listened. When I turned out the lights I picked up his stuffed spirit animal and asked HIM where we should go in our dreams. As he conjured up an unknown suspenseful world I slowed down and allowed myself to imagine alongside him.
I had caught the moment between the moments and I refused to let it go. My Story unfolds itself in the space between the moments when I am not usually paying that much attention.
As I gaze back upon My Story it overwhelms and saddens me that I have allowed myself to be so distracted within this sacred space. I am awake now, writing My Story before it unfolds. Allowing myself the space and Time for dreams.