I spend a lot of time dreaming… of the grass on the other side.
I'm an optimist by nature. I try to always see the bright side of things. To make the best of any situation. And I am glad that I am able to do that. I can't imagine how sad and dark life must be for the truly pessimistic, those people that always seem to find fault and are never satisfied.
But I do find myself dreaming of a better life more than I like which is sad really because I have a pretty wonderful life.
Not because these are truly the perfect days but because these are the unattainable. These are the grass is greener. The things I cannot do right now at this point in my life, but oh how I miss these possibilities.
And then there are the dreams I wish I had for my perfect day. The person I wish I was that wanted to hike deep into a forest and spend the night or who was training with my friends for a marathon. The mom whose perfect day involved carving pumpkins and creating elaborate holiday memories for my boys. The risk taker who changes the lives of those in need around them. But I am not that person.
The truth is I cannot describe the perfect day. Not one perfect day.
I can tell you how I love to spend a bright fall Saturday morning watching College Gameday while drinking coffee in my flannel pajamas. I can write about the joy I get watching my boys do something they love, especially when they are doing it so well that day and you know they will be proud of themselves. The conversation that happens at Bible study that makes me feel alive or the walk amongst the changing fall leaves with a friend that centers me in the here and now. Smelling the salt air and hearing the crashing waves. The dinner out with my husband, slow courses, a good glass of wine, a delicious meal, and time standing still. The day when all of my boys come off the school bus with smiles and funny stories to tell. The day spent reading a good book that you can’t put down. The adventure of taking my kids on a subway ride into the city and wandering around drinking warm hot chocolates on the cold day.
For me, there is no one perfect day. At least not one that can be encased in twenty four hours of time.
And maybe that is a good thing.
Maybe I have found a way to make the little things, the glimpses of joy in my days, into my own green grass.