Drops of Moments

My husband is currently going through old family photos. As we look at photos in the stacks of albums, we flip past the pages of landscapes and seascapes and tourist attractions. Of course, there are the happy Christmas photos of family gatherings, and school portraits which are wonderful. But the photos that get pulled and cherished the most are ones of seemingly "everyday moments'. A photo of my husband and his brother, not much more than toddlers, having peanut butter and jam sandwiches on their grandmother's front porch. There is another one of the two boys a little older, at the kitchen sink in their childhood apartment, with dishtowels in hand. Little boys standing in the garden, among the peonies. Those drops of moments in that come together to create the ocean of a lifetime, the story of a family. 

So often we spend our days wishing them away. We wish for the workday to end, wait for the weekend, count down the days until vacation. We get caught up in just getting through until the next big thing. Instead of being in the moment, we think that the things we are doing now are insignificant, not worthy of note.

Our wedding day, 1986

Of course, those major milestones are amazing, those life events can truly be joyful and memorable. I remember my wedding day like it was yesterday, I remember when each of my three children were born. Those memories come to the surface very easily. Those memories are truly gifts. 

But just last week, my husband and I drove by building that has gone through many transformations over the years, and we both commented on how it used to be a  Sir Donut Shop in the 1980's. Long before the Tim Hortons showed up in our part of Canada, the Sir Donut was the place to go. And we both brought up a memory, of a Saturday back in 1984 when we were first together, and we stopped at the Sir Donut for a coffee and a donut. We sat at the counter, on little upholstered  stools that spun around. We had hot coffee in the white ceramic mugs, and I had a maple dipped donut. I had a polariod camera (ah yes, the 80's!) and I actually snapped a photo of my sweetie as we left the building (I came home and searched my photo boxes so I could add it to this blog post!) 

What a cutie!

The vividness of this memory, and how we both could revisit it with such detail, was a delight to both of us. 

The fact that such an insignificant event, a drop in the ocean of a lifetime, could still hold space in my memory almost 40 years later, makes me think about how many of those moments I just push through, without appreciating them. Those moments are so special, those moments of summers enjoying flowers in the backyard, of doing the dishes after a meal of delicious food and shared laughter, of peanut butter and jam sandwiches on the back patio with the grandchildren. I am trying to make a point of savouring those everyday moments. I want to be mindful of those blessed days as they happen, instead of waiting 40 years to remember how beautiful an inconsequential morning at a donut shop really was.