Monday, July 22, 2013

Just One Day




A writer friend and I have established a fairly regular routine of writing together on Sunday mornings. She supplies most of the prompts and for an hour we write and share (over the phone - this is a long-distance event) what we've written. One of this weekend's prompts was to sift through the week to find those moments when we were really paying attention. I didn't get past Friday morning! 

Tea - hot, sweet, the first sip awakening the taste buds; two year old Bean's small, secretive, satisfied smile upon awakening to find herself in my bed; the delight in Baby Lily’s eyes that travels through her in a shiver as she holds her arms out to me; watching Al move about the kitchen with a dancer’s grace, choreographing breakfast; the thickness of air when it reaches 100 degrees, the sheer oppressive weight of it on my shoulders; the startling contrast of purple against yellow, the petunias leaning out of their wall basket to rest their heads on the shoulders of yellow lily blossoms; the absence of Frosty’s bark when a thunderstorm is imminent – he always alerted me to lightning before I was aware of its proximity; the way the scent of cut grass and the taste of cool watermelon can soothe my nerves even when I'm not aware they needed soothing; the look in my daughter’s eyes when she sees me - relief, love, amusement, anticipation, satisfaction all at once in those expressive orbs, and how I see her in that soft blue, the essence of Cassie, the part of her that connects with me; the massive relief of the first faint hint of a cool breeze on sweat-soaked skin; the height of the weeds that surround the garden and the staggering number of them that pop up through the bark mulch despite constant pulling; the unexpected feeling of being worry free while driving a car – my new-to-me one has effective brakes, a sound exhaust system, an automatic transmission – I am able to look around me as I drive, observing things that worry previously blinded me to.

I could have written reams and perhaps I shall write more as I think over the past week. Another prompt was to project what our lives might be like this time next year. I had trouble with that one. Tabor's post this week mentions the butterfly effect. One never knows what small event will change the course of a larger one. I hope that then will be much as now is - all in all, I lead quite a satisfactory life.



What moments did you pay attention to last week?

FYI: (Frosty was the neighbor's yellow lab. He died a few weeks ago.)


14 comments:

Out on the prairie said...

Sometimes the smallest event can expand in thought for me. I laugh when I brag about hearing a bird or chasing a butterfly with friends, a moment they perhaps they can't see as eventful as it was for me.

Brian Miller said...

def the smaller events are the ones we miss often...focusing on the larger ones...the little backseat convo i had with my boys for instance...meaningless maybe but then again maybe not....

Tabor said...

You have great observation skills and can gracefully tell us with your words. I like this arrangement you have with your friend. a little jealous.

Marc Leavitt said...

Pauline:
Thoughtful, as always. Re your comment; I'm still rewriting poems I wrote in college,many years ago, and even then, they still need a tweak, a nip and a tuck, the next time I read them. In fact, before I read your comment, I had just made two changes to the poem I wrote yesterday, "on writing poetry," where "obvious" clarifications had been missed; a case of "can't see the trees for the forest."
Cheers

Barbara Shallue said...

You have such a way with words, that draw us into the moment with you. I sure hope you're working on a book. I've been so busy lately that I'm afraid I'm just moving in a blur and not paying attention. Thanks for the reminder to stop, breathe, and notice.

Hilary said...

You always recognize that the small, everyday moments are really the monumental ones - or so you make them feel. Too bad about Frosty.. the loss of an animal leaves such a vacancy.

Friko said...

Splendid prompt, I shall have a go. (If you and your writing friend don’t mind)

Will you share any more prompts?

Your observations are all so tiny, they are nevertheless what makes life ‘lived’ rather than just ‘existed’.

Pauline said...

OOTP - those small moments add up to something special, don't they?

Brian - not much is meaningless!

Tabor - we can do it together if you like... if calling isn't convenient, we can always email prompts.

Marc - I do that with prose, too!

Barbara - I have a published book of newspaper columns but no, I'm not working on a book at present.

Hilary - I miss Frosty even though he wasn't mine. I saw him almost every day for a pat or a doggy grin.

Friko - you are welcome to use any of the prompts I mention. I'll send you a list if you'd like, of the ones we've used. Just send me your email.

Friko said...

my email is on my blog, by profile.
Yes please, I’d like a prompt or two.

A Cuban In London said...

I loved the way you focused on these tiny and quotidian moments. They are what make our existence more bearable. Many thanks.

Greetings from London.

Pauline said...

ACIL - thanks for stopping by to read and comment. Your own focus on detail is admirable; I thoroughly enjoyed reading at your site.

Michael Manning said...

What an amazing question! I've been so focused on my move this week and just nailing down goals of errands to keep it simpler! :)

Judith said...

As always, beautiful to read and replete with food for thought!

Pauline said...

Michael - once you're settled, answer that question. It will make a fun read for the rest of us, I bet.

J - thank you :)