I created an experience after my day started rather unlike how I planned it. When I just couldn't look at the computer screen any longer, regardless of still needing an ending to the second book of my new series.
I had run up to my daughter in Kenosha, WI., earlier that day because she was busy and needed some school supplies. I drove an hour and a half, dropped them off and promptly returned home. I was a bit grouchy for having made the trip and getting stuck in traffic and though it was a great day for a car ride, I had things to do.
But when I get home, I found myself unable to stay indoors with the temperature reaching 64 degrees in February.
I decided to go for a walk.
My neighborhood is quiet, the walk undulates through the subdivision in a languid motion. Up and down, past the pond, through quiet, private streets. While it's an easy walk in the sunshine, I chose instead, to drive to the marsh near my house.
I've never really been there this time of the year, usually it's warm, or hot when I take a stroll. I hadn't really thought about it much, until I got there.
I wasn't dressed for the mud, the snow and the high levels of water. While i had on my gym shoes (a Chicago thing,) I found myself walking through overly saturated sandy paths, thick, icy snow, and sloshy grass.
It was beautiful. While a lot of people had the same thought as me, the trails themselves seemed empty, quiet, serene. And I did something I never do; I left out the ear buds. I walked in silence.
Well not really silence. I listened to the birds, to the families that were on the trail, to my shoes as they crunched against the hard snow, as they stuck in the muddy, sandy trail, to the cars that drove along the roads that border the marsh.
My summer walks can be exhausting with the heat, I look forward to the end of the trail. This time, I never worried about the end, rather, I simply took the time to enjoy the stillness around me. I felt the change in temperature from where the sunlight melted the snow, to the shadows that were left behind trees that blocked out the sun.
I was never too cold or too hot as I walked my usual path, farther from the parking lot as I saw fewer and fewer people.
I find myself, for the first time in my life, really living in the small moments. Learning to be alone with myself, making time for things that make me happy.
I said this was my year of experience and I've yet to make plans for a big experience. But what I done, it create experience when there was none and learned to revel in the simple; as I enjoy the day, or an hour, or a single minute, living in the present, not in the past or in the future; but just here.
I heard once, that the days are long and the years are short. And as I finish my 51st year, I realize that those long days, broken up in little moments are refreshing, and lovely and are very necessary.