cooking dinner and melting fear
/Yesterday at 5:23pm
My son (who has been feeling a little better every day) sits happily at my feet surrounded by pots and spoons, and is mixing together his own recipe of dried bean soup; (making a horrible mess) but proudly serving it to me again and again, saying things like, "This time I added cheese mama. Taste it again."
The girls, each at work on their own endeavors (reading, writing, photo editing) sit around the dining room table. They look up occasionally and alternately to scoop goldfish crackers from a communal bowl, and exchange stories about lunch, PE injuries, and upcoming field trips.
The sun steams in unfiltered. A strong spring wind whistles through a nearby cracked window. Ben Harper sings about Stealing Kisses. My hair is twisted and tucked and struggles to remain in a day's-end loose bun. I stand at my stove making dinner.
I stand at my stove making dinner and I think. I don't know so many things. Sometimes the unknowns scare me half to death, the frustrations threaten to overwhelm me. I fear my inadequacy, my potential mistakes. I crush under the disapproval of others. I desire an undeliverable kind of comfort and security. I am still very much finding my way, and I definitely don't get it right every day.
But then, there comes a realization.
In tiny moments like these, amongst everyday tasks and scenery, there is happiness and peace. I don't have to fear leaving them behind, or running out of them, or somehow struggling to create more of them. I love these moments. I love them because they are not dependent upon perfect circumstances, perfect relationships, or perfect people. Having it all figured out is not a prerequisite for enjoying the present.
Whether in struggle or ease I will always have the opportunity to do the best that I can. I will have the ability to build up others, to see good, to create fun, to laugh, to enjoy. No matter what I will always have the capacity to love. It's going to be okay, little moments like these remind me.
And so I bask in that thought. I enjoy my children scattered about me. I smile at the messes I'm stepping in and around (literally and figuratively). I inhale the fragrance of food being prepared in my little kitchen where lilacs decorate the table. I look down at my toes painted baby blue because it's my favorite color...
And the fear melts.