I was reading an email from a guy whose writing I subscribe to. I know that sounds weird. I think he writes on Medium, but I see his list of articles come through my email. Anyway....as has become a norm in these sort of email posts, he poses a question to his readers to ponder.
His question this week: when was the last time you did something worth remembering?
I read that and thought about my weekend, which was full of Monopoly games with my son, hustling to soccer and then watching it in a chilling drizzle, feeding my kids meals, watching Fixer Upper with my daughter, listening to kid-squables and reading in hot baths.
There is nothing particularly memorable in any of these actions. The Monopoly was pretty sweet. The feeding the kids was hit or miss, but there were some quiet moments of being together that felt nice. All-in-all, though, it was a typical weekend for a family of four in suburban America.
That, readers, seems memorable to me.
I have to remind myself, when I see questions such as this one, that daily life isn't a series of life-changing, poignant actions deposited into a bank of amazing memories. I can remember the small stuff, the moments in front of the fire, Monopoly rolled out on the floor, my son saying to me, "I'm playing Monopoly, eating blueberry muffins by the fire and in my underwear. This is the best day ever!"
I know the question is meant to be inspiring, but some days, the rah-rah zest we're all being told to live life with, this dream-making, visualize-your-best-self, you were put on the earth for a purpose mentality is exhausting.
Today, on this average Monday in my just-under-one-acre spot on the earth, with my kids rousing (slightly grumpy) for another day of school and rain in the forecast, I'm going to just go ahead and live the day as it comes to me, one cup of coffee, flourless peanut butter cookie and hot bath at a time.
I think Laura Ingalls Wilder said it best:
It's the sweet, simple things in life which are the real ones after all.
I think so much of anxiety in our society is forgetting how important the simple things are, which doesn't mean we don't live a life of purpose or go after the big game or thrive. But most of my memories, the ones that come to me just before I fall asleep or while I'm driving down these back country roads - these memories are the big guns. They're the tiny details of an average life.
And then, just when I think this life of mine is average, I remember something else:
I hope everyone is having a lovely week after having had a lovely weekend, rain or otherwise.