Over and Over Again

Some moments are perfect. Isn't it ironic that we are afforded so many moments in life yet so few of them are we deem worthy to pause and ponder? To be perfectly content in the moment is far too rare an experience for me. But those glorious minutes are cherished indeed.

Moments like this are inextricably linked to spending quality time with my daughter. On a day like today the air is warm and a gentle breeze whips through our hair. We visit a play ground and in the ready position I push both her and the swing forward only to have them both come right back to me. I continue to push them away and they continue to come back. This does not trouble me. I enjoy it. Especially when my daughter squeals "Weeeeeee, daddy, weeeee!!!!!"

But I find such repetition in other areas of my life to be a kin to a prison sentence. I hate the idea of a day-in and day-out routine. You probably do to. I even find myself revolting against having the same breakfast two days in a row for fear that I a may miss out on a full meaningful life by partaking the same oats day after day.

My daughter can watch the same video, eat the same food, throw the same ball over and over again each time gleaning the same amount of satisfaction. I can't tell the the last time I've seen the same movie twice within the same year.

Surely this is the curse of growing up, right? Somewhere along the line we trade an awestruck wonder in everything to an awestruck wonder of hardly anything. I find myself wanting the new iPhone when I haven't yet completely mastered the one I have. The new has somehow made the old, well, not so desirable. It just doesn't hold the same "wow factor" as it used to.

Maybe the blessing of getting older is the re-found appreciation of that which we have learned to take of granted. I don't know but I would rather regain that appreciation now than wait to see if it reappears in the fast approaching years.

What I want more than anything is to be present in many more moments. To have that feeling that everything is just as it should be. When pushing a swing over and over again isn't a nuisance but rather a sweet indulgence in the pure joy of life.