TIVOLI JENSEN

Every so often, whilst navigating my life through days wrought with bombastic three-year-olds, cooking food before it expires, and vast arrays of deadlines on the horizon, I find myself in a pocket moment of contentment.

The moment is one of normalcy, I didn’t have to masterfully create it nor search for it, it just happens.

This morning, right now, it occurs during our Saturday morning ritual of watching an old movie and cuddling on the couch.  Eliott points out what the characters really are in Robin Hood (i.e., yes, Little John is a bear, and strangely like Baloo, thank you).  August commandeered the blanket I was using and has now situated her pillow on my lap so as to be the model of comfort.

My coffee is warm and freshly poured beside me, the steam curling and unfurling like wisps of caffeinated magic.  My computer whirs in the background, the pages displayed to the many things I will accomplish today.  My textbook lays on my lap, still on the chapter of speeches by William Walwyn, my feet tucked under August’s torso.  Toys are sprawled about the room, dropped in mid-play for something better.

These are the moments where my being feels at peace with the universe.  Where I can breathe, and enjoy the sensation of my lungs expanding, my chest rising.  My mouth quirks with an unbidden smile, my mind feels happy.  Its then, I realize, I am happy.  In this.  Normalcy, simplicity.  In a cuddle puddle with the Littles and commenting on how, yes, the Sheriff is the Big Bad Wolf– astute observation, my boy.

In these moments that old feeling of possibility burgeons in my chest, mushrooming with the want to change the world, and go on adventures, and stay right here forever.  I wonder, too, how many of these moments I could have missed because I wasn’t aware of the wonder before me.

Breathing in, breathing out.

Content.