September 23, 2019

These Mindful Moments Belong to Me.


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This moment does not belong to how sleepy I’m gonna feel when the alarm goes off in the morning.

It belongs to these soft, lavender-scented sheets, to the cool darkness of the room, and to the promise of my lover’s hand as it slips under the covers and over the bare skin of my hip.

This moment does not belong to the inevitable crush of Monday—of back-to-work and too much to do with far too few hours in which to do it. It belongs to my son as I sit on the edge of the bed and listen to his accounting of the day’s “highs and lows.” It belongs to this wonder of a boy who is taller than me and yet still enjoys being tucked in…and who smells a little bit like he could use a shower. 

This moment does not belong to a destination that’s four long hours down the road. It belongs to the drive itself—to the sensation of my zippy little car hurtling through space, to gratitude for luxuries like cars and gas and time, and to the Dixie Chicks’ “Wide Open Spaces,” which I belt into the wind at the top of my lungs, over and over and over again.

This moment does not belong to the person who is keeping me waiting, or to the long line, or to some future date on the calendar. It belongs to the waiting itself, and to the realization that this person or product or event is worth waiting for…and that I’m lucky to be able to look forward to such things. It belongs to time, and to the peace that comes with knowing absolutely nothing is expected of me in this moment, other than remaining present.

This moment does not belong to regret. It does not belong to conversations rehashed or mistakes made, to opportunities missed or roads not taken. It belongs to lessons learned and to the deep relief of second chances. It belongs to knowing that every choice, every decision—wise or foolhardy, brave or timid—brought me to this exact moment.

And this moment is perfect.

This moment does not belong to 10 pounds from now. It belongs to these stretchy and forgiving yoga pants, my free will and capacity for change, and a partner who adores me whether or not I ever fit into those jeans again. It belongs to knowing I am enough, just as I am. 

This moment does not belong to all of the chores waiting for me at home. It does not belong to overflowing laundry baskets or dust bunnies or thirsty houseplants. It belongs to this Asiago bagel and the familiar face of my friend sipping coffee across the table. It belongs to this hike in the woods, to just one more glass of wine, and to lingering over a shared belly laugh with a colleague before heading to the parking garage.

This moment does not belong to anyone who would disrespect, punish, or intimidate me. It belongs to every accomplishment I’ve made in spite of such people. It belongs to every new job, every new home, the overabundance of love in my life, and the genuine devotion of my children. It belongs to every instance where I’ve risen from the ashes, and to the certainty that I will always rise—no matter what.

This moment does not belong to “someday.” It belongs to this day.

It belongs to me.

Which moments will you claim as your own?


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