Monday, May 27, 2013

Memorable Day

I did it, and all is well.

As the morning sun shone on our breakfast table this morning, our family, my boys and I, decided it was the perfect day to finally hike Y mountain. 

Despite good intentions, there had always been a reason why we couldn't manage to get ourselves there. 

But not today.

After filling up water bottles and putting on hats, we hit the road.


From the moment we pulled out of the neighborhood, the blue skies beckoned us to soak up as much fresh air as we could. 

Clearly, it was a roll-the-windows-down, blast -the- music kind-of-day, so that's what we did. 

When I played  Stompa, the backseat instantly became a dance party.

I drove as the boy's sweet voices mixed with cool, spring air and gently eased the stress from my mind and body.

This is perfect, I thought to myself.
I took a photo at each switch back along the way. 

As we looked for a rock to sit on , Max spotted a lizard. Hiding, he thought, on the same colored rock. 

"Why is he just sitting there?" my son asked obviously disappointed that he couldn't see the lizard in action. 

"Well, he's climbed all the way up this mountain, now he's stopping to enjoy the view," I surmised. 

Never once did my boys complain about the strain on their legs as we climbed the 12 switchbacks to reach the Y

I noticed his little head was sweaty, but yet he was smiling. 


My youngest son, whose independence grows every day needed this, so I took photos. 

We had discussions as the birds voiced their own opinions high above us in the trees. 


This was a big milestone in my life since last years life-changing events.
This is perfect, I thought to myself.

Ah yes. Today's "perfect" had nothing to do with portraying a certain image or reaching an expected standard. The words, "This is perfect" came to mind because in those particular moments, everything felt perfect in my own little world.

A few hours later, with clown-nose glasses, mud caked shoes, and a few more freckles from the sun, we went to the boys favorite toy store in Springville. 

As Markus decorated his great-great-grandfather's grave, I took the opportunity to  talk to my mom about all the research she has been doing on our genealogy. 

But after a few minutes, the rumblings in the boys stomach forced me to surrender. With their subway sandwiches in hand and blissfully tired legs resting, three words came to mind: This is perfect.
It struck me as odd, this particular choice of words for an anti-perfectionist. "Perfect" sure wasn't what it used to be, I thought with a laugh. Five years ago, perfect was all about how things looked from the outside - a flawless portrayal, an ideal standard. And as I desperately tried to achieve a picture-perfect life, my health, and happiness were nearly damaged beyond repair. 

But not today.

Today "perfect" had nothing to do with looking a certain way or reaching for a standard set by an Instagram-worthy picnic spread, coordinated hiking outfits, toned legs, or shiny, happy boys. The words "This is perfect" was my own personal feeling of contentment...

When my stars align. When my boy's laughter comes together like music in my ears. When the sun is shining, and I happen to be standing directly underneath it's warmth. When I indulge in a short hike on a favorite mountain. When the water tastes unusually clear. When I look around and the people I love are within arm's reach. That's when my own little world feels pretty darn close to extraordinary. 

Because in between that sweaty little head and yours, my friend, is hope.