It's the little moments that count
Sometimes, I have a pretty rough week. Lately, I've had a pretty rough couple of months. Non-stop activity, a house-buying odyssey that should have been done a month ago, and fewer chances to get outside. I still have it better than most people, but I just feel wiped sometimes.
Last night, I was checking a patio heater to make sure it still worked when I decided to smoke a cigar. It was given to me at a family member's wedding and I was waiting for the right time to smoke it. It may or may not have been from a country where they still drive cars from the 50's.
I strolled around my yard, my rental yard. I will be moving soon and won't be able to stroll around an acre like this. I stepped onto a large boulder in the middle of the grass and looked upward. The golden light of the setting sun danced at the tops of the hundred-foot-tall trees. The smells of eucalyptus, sycamore, and oak mixed together to form a word: outside.
I closed my eyes and heard what Santa Barbarians call sundowners blowing through the glowing tree tops. For a moment, a short, sweet little moment, I felt my body hum in harmony with nature. I heard a noise behind me and I turned around. From inside the house, my daughter and niece were tapping on the glass and wondering what the thing was in my hand that was giving off smoke.
I had totally forgotten about it.