The one thing I've missed most of all during this pandemic is visiting with my niece, her beautiful young family and my wonderful sister-in-love. Aside from the usual precautions being observed by most of us, and being parents of two small boys, the family has been especially careful. So, we stopped seeing each other.
I'm not much for most social media, nor am I free of concerns over the massively increasing and now ubiquitous exposures of electromagnetic frequencies, (EMF's.) So, for that reason and a myriad of other concerns, I don't choose to own a cell phone. So, I don't text. And most young people, these days, truly dislike using their phones as phones. So, unless we make time to see each other, I'm literally completely out of touch with my niece and her family.
But yesterday, joy of joys, with the onset of spring and the drop in COVID cases, an exception to our 'No Visiting' stance opened with a window of opportunity and we all jumped through. We didn't hug, but we spent a truly glorious day together out in their charming little backyard.
The boys had dump-trucks and blocks and a mini, light portable swing-set, along with a delightful elevated circular plastic trough that Gram-mama had just filled with water for them to stand at, pat and splash in, with their toys. We brought some little celery snacks and some tomato based veggie drinks, which were a big hit. And we found that we all just delighted in the moment, each moment, all day long.
The weather was beautiful, the company superlative, and the joy factor was spectacular. Despite our many vague attempts to speak of ideas or ideals, the boys religiously pulled us back to the present moment of now.
May we all be so blessed as to have such great fun with our families or friends, catching those golden moments of relaxed love and joy, whenever we can. As the Buddha said, "Do nothing. Time is too precious to waste."
I'll leave you with this snippet from a Mary Oliver poem that I love:
The god of dirt
came up to me many times and said
so many wise and delectable things,
I lay on the grass listening
to his dog voice,
now, he said,
and never once mentioned forever.