In the Moment

Last night I lay on the carpet in my bedroom, feet propped up on the bed at a 90-degree angle, left hand gently petting Hamish. I was exhausted. I bought a car yesterday, after 23 days of auto-related torture. It’s a nice little 2003 Honda Civic HX black two-door coupe. I hope drive it until the wheels fall off.

I lay there and chatted with Younger Bro, who was also flopped down on the rug with his feet up on the bed (we had a minor argument about him removing his shoes – I won) and chatted about our day. It reminded me of how many times I’ve talked with roommates, friends, Mom and Dad, and so many others in odd positions.

Not for me the cozy comfort of a plush armchair. No, I usually end up sitting on top of a kitchen counter, on a tile floor or, in many situations, sitting on the edge of the tub to have good long yap with my roomie or my mother as they put on makeup or fixed their hair.

My best friend and I, when we lived together, often ended up on the stairs at the end of the night. I would be on my way to bed and we would start talking and then an hour later I would say, “I’ve really got to get in bed,” and she would say, “Me, too,” and then we would keep talking while our bodies were sprawled at awkward angles to accommodate the small landing. It never occurred to us to move the conversation to a place more comfortable.

I have talked to people in the freezing cold just because I knew if we moved into warmth the moment would be gone forever. And I have sat in my driveway talking on my cell phone long after I arrived home because I didn’t want to let that person go.

The relationships I have with people I try to hold in high esteem. I try to honor them and give the time and attention they need – like special flowers that need tending to. I’m not the best at it, but I try. And it makes life a little more interesting.