A Room With A View

The past six weeks have been a whirlwind of work; illness; teaching; time with friends; convalescing; and more work.  Thankfully, during these past weeks, I was given the opportunity to completely unwind.  And I mean completely.  Unwind.

And contemplate.

And reflect.

And while most of my musings were in a Percocet induced fog (which may or may not be the subject of a future post, depending on how brave I really am), I emerged from my recent forced vacation with a newfound clarity.  Suddenly, I have focus. And I have promised myself I will never get so swept away in the tidal waves of life again.  A dear and wise friend of mine has often lamented to me that one of the biggest regrets of his life has been that he has spent much of it adrift, carried where the winds have taken him.  He never really thought much about which way to point the ship - he was merely content to be on the boat: warm, dry and traveling at the tides' whims.  Despite my protestations, I am more like this friend than I publicly admit.  And I have been adrift, running from one deadline to the next meeting to an organized sport to the next scheduled playdate--all without much thought or contemplation.

Frankly, that is no way to live.  I need to slow down and try to savor the little moments.  I should take the time to enjoy every ham sandwich (as my friend says).  And so this is my mindset.  The new me, if you will.  And the new me was at home this weekend, cooking dinner in our kitchen and putting away groceries, when I looked out the window.  And saw this.

And this.

And the new me raced to my iPhone so I could try to capture the moment. So I could look back on that snapshot in time and remember the details.  Those small details I have blogged about before that weave the fabric of our lives.  I want to remember the chill in the air that Sunday afternoon as I watched the three most important people in my life play ball in the backyard.

The way my boy looked while wearing the hat that was carefully and lovingly hand knit by a woman who I consider to be a dear friend, though we have never actually met.

The anticipation of the visit of one of my best friends and her daughter, who were joining us for dinner.

 The smell of the two chickens roasting in my oven.

And I realized then that I have the best view in the world.

I have seen some really fantastic places in my nearly 40 years.  I am talking about spectacular views that literally take your breath away - like the time we rode horses on the beach in Northern California, the view of Napa Valley from the basket under a hot air balloon, the castle in Ireland with the magnificent stonework, and so on.

None of those views compare to that view outside my kitchen window this Sunday.  My room with a view.  The best view on Earth.