This Moment

When the kids were little, I often used to think about how special the ordinary days were- how just being together - whether doing nothing - or doing some of the simple, seldom noticed, everyday type of things - were moments not to be taken for granted. “Enjoy this moment. It will never come again” would often play out in my head. (It still does.)

I was thinking about this a lot yesterday - even more so than usual.

Yesterday, for the first time in nearly seven months, the entire family was able to be together. The occasion was nothing in particular, other than, after months of each of us taking a lot of precautions, we had the chance to get together, if only for a day.

I picked up Rachael on Friday (after her self-quarantine of a couple of weeks), and Jake drove home yesterday morning (in the midst of his ongoing semi-self, semi-quarantine - at least as best he can while still working), and being Saturday, Helaina, of course, joined us.

With everyone together, we went on a late morning, “socially distant” walk through some of the wooded paths that Sam and I usually walk together in semi-solitude.

The early afternoon was spent having a cookout and, for the first time this year, eating outside on our usually abandoned, sad-looking picnic table - which typically sits buried under junk in the corner of our postage stamp-size backyard.

And after eating, the late afternoon was spent mostly in small talk and then with Jake having to gather up to head back to his so-called “home”.

The brief time we spent together, for this one brief day, was little more than what would have been considered "just an ordinary day", way back when. It would have been a momentary stop on our way to going other places, and doing other things. On our way to being with other people. On our way to living our lives.

Way back when, the moment would have passed, barely noticed by anyone. Except maybe me.