Because some days you just need to say ‘to hell with it’- whip your minivan around a roundabout, in an illegal u-turn, rummage for change in the bottom of your purse to feed a meter, hastily zip hoodies onto both kids who are now confused and excited as to what has come over their mother. Sprint hand-in-hand-in-hand across a parking lot, down some stairs, then flip off everyone’s shoes and balance them in all your fingers. Encourage everyone to sink their toes in the sand, run faster and harder with the kids now yelling ‘Mom! Mom! Are we really HERE?’
And stand breathlessly at the edge of the world just in time to see the sun sink into the Pacific.
If there is one thing being sick has taught me, it is to live in the moment. Remember tomorrow it could all be gone. Remember what is important as much as you can over the course of your regular, boring, routine of a day.
Say I love you, tell them how much they mean to you. Make sure you are there to show them the ocean, the stars, the flower on the side of the road as you drive on by.
Sing a silly song while stuck in traffic. Make up a secret handshake. Curl up next to your partner in the dead of night and kiss him softly while he sleeps, whispering how much you love him. Make a big deal of the tooth fairy, of a field trip, over his tiny act of helping his sister pick up toys.
Be proud, truly beam, and cheer with the kids, tears of joy in your eyes, as he crosses the finish line of a race. A race he didn’t train for correctly because he was caring for you and the family.
Encourage her to wear that princess dress to the store, and help her pick out shoes to match.
Tickle fight on the couch. Share made-up words at dinner.
And when faced with seeing a glint of blue out of the corner of your eye through traffic, always…ALWAYS whip the car around.
And breathlessly, barefooted, and giggling…chase that sunset.