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Hitting a Curb

8/23/2018

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Picture
I was turning into my son’s neighborhood while watching a fast-moving car pass by my car in a flash. I have turned into that neighborhood a multitude of times, for that matter, I have turned corners with street curbs thousands upon thousands of times, but this time I was not focused enough to notice that there was a curb right in my path.

Needless to say, I trashed the tire, which went flat immediately, and although I knew I had a spare, I was most appreciative to be so close to my son’s home. Without a pause, he was there with my two-year-old grandson, who didn’t want any part of staying inside daddy’s cool, air-conditioned car. He was certain it was much more interesting watching daddy change a tire, no matter that the temperature was near 100 degrees with a heat index of 108.

Picture
Did you ever notice how kids don’t seem to really feel the temperature outside? When I was little, there was a woods behind us, and every winter the most fun thing in my child’s heart was to go out and walk, play and to take in the magic while sitting and listening to the silence of the snow all around me. I never seemed to feel the cold, but remember coming back fairly wet in my wool snowsuit, eventually revealing red-numb hands and feet. It all worked out though, as radiators were most efficient at warming any body parts within a few feet of their steaming pipes.

Back to today, the intense heat and me holding my two-year-old grandson, who by this time was delighted by all the things going on, and pointing them out with that refreshing level of excitement that such a young child has. The butterfly moving over our heads, the massive, jet air-plane flying close to the ground and our heads, the man fertilizing the lawn across the street with his big, white truck, who kindly came over to give us some much appreciated, cold bottles of water. My grandson quickly pointed out “he’s not daddy”, and then pointed to my son, “that’s daddy”, and in my amusement, I had to agree.

After my tire was changed we proceeded back to their home where I began to take care of my grandson so mommy and daddy could go appreciate their adult life in a restaurant without any of their three, lovely children, two of which were in school. We had a delightful one-on-one time together, going upstairs, downstairs, upstairs again, eating, watching Mother Goose, searching for Playdough, searching for a specific hat, eating more, going back upstairs again, watching more Mother Goose, singing, building with blocks, and you get the picture. Nothing compares to the energy of a two-year-old.
Later that evening I posted a short video on facebook of us on the couch, him being his usual, never-ending-source of joyful entertainment. As I wrote a few words about our visit, I threw in the incident about hitting the curb, and suddenly realized why it happened. The words pulled such weight, yet seemed to come from lightness herself, focus on what is right in front of you. You know... be in the moment. It just might prevent you from hitting a curb, another car, or from missing an opportunity, from seeing the beauty, from noticing what matters most, like someone you love.

We don’t hit a curb to suffer or struggle with resolving it. Oh, sure, it is a pain in the butt to take care of it, and there is growth in that too, but the main thing is what shakes us, what wakes us up and grabs our attention is just trying to help us “see”. Message received, and most grateful for the reminder.

Next post will be about my art, I promise.

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