After hours, stringing together moments.
Last night, I really wished I had a bedside table.I wanted to capture a picture so badly and if I had a nightstand, my phone would have been closer and more accessible. I probably spent a whole six minutes devising a plan to get my phone.
So you know, I keep my phone charging in the bathroom about three steps away from the edge of the end of the bed. It is strategic really in that I have to actually get up out of bed to turn off my alarm every morning. That and I don’t have easy access to scroll instagram once my head hits the pillow. It is a conscious choice, similar to that of not having TV in the bedroom.
So no phone. No weird pictures of the family piled in bed while they’re sleeping. I actually have quite a few of them from a time when I did have a bedside table.
Is that creepy? Tell me you do this, too. I know, some times I worry too about my nerd-like ways for my children.
My sweet man always, and I mean every single night, falls asleep before me. He can lay his head down and be deep in REM within about 7 seconds. I see it is a gift.
For me, I need time. Time to release the day, time to release the computer screen and iPhone apps and conversations. I need time to stop myself from brainstorming about this brand, the to do list, our wedding and/or my imagine1day fundraising efforts. And I need to warm up, adjust to the darkness and truly settle in. I toss and turn to find that perfect snuggle spot.
Back to last night. Chris passes out, per usual and is on the brink of snoring. He has the comforter pulled up around his neck and every muscle in his face is relaxed. He has really beautiful skin and I am jealous of it, there, I said it. I can lift my head up and see the black ears and brown eyebrows of our sweet terrier mix, Bear. He is literally nuzzled in Chris’ armpit on the other side of the bed and under the covers.
Under the covers, seriously.
I have our Moose pup sprawled over the top of me. On top of the covers, that is. He literally looks like a huge floppy oversized stuffed animal thrown over the top of my stomach and laying right on my heart, his humongous head sleeping soundly on my right shoulder into my neck. He is passed out beyond belief. We went for a run earlier that evening and he is a goner.
Oh, he snores, too.
I smile because I love the visual. My feet intertwine in with Chris’ legs. I reach for his hand and I hold it, I hold it tight. And I breathe deeply, every so often opening my eyes to make sure we are all still the same.
Connected and all snuggle-like. In love.
I wished in that after hours life moment right there for the iPhone because I just wanted to capture this moment with Chris, me and the (beyond spoiled, I know) pups. I want it forever, I think to myself. As if I no longer have a memory bank and the phone is my only option. I mean, my right arm is free and long enough to get that selfie type angle and the flash will only wake them for a moment. How do I get out of this bed? I devise a plan to move Moose and then place myself right back where I was. Three seconds flat.
Truly not possible.
And I breathe and realize I secretly don’t want to move. I don’t want to interrupt all the love. I know this might sound weird – you might have already graduated from dog snuggles to kid snuggles. Or even weirder if you don’t love dogs in the they-are-part-of-the-family type way. Yet in my life right now, it is this moment. This simple moment is my everything. My reminder that every little thing is already okay, my peace and my quiet, and my favorite place to be right now.
So I stay.
And I take a mental snapshot. And I realize that life is about noticing and seeing love. Anywhere and everywhere. The moments are fleeting and they come and go. Of course there are the 'other moments', the harder, not so desirable, uncomfortable and annoying moments. I believe that is being alive.
Yet, the beauty is we have choice. Choice to see love in moments. And then, in all the vulnerable courage we can muster, start to string those love moments together, getting them closer and closer so that joy, connection and dog breath are overfilling your memory bank (and iPhone album).
String the moments. Today.