I went sledding with my daughter today. We shared a sled, so one of us would sit at the bottom of the hill while the other climbed up the hill and slid down. We went back and forth doing this until we were both so red in the face and cold that we had to hike back home. It was the most fun I have had in a long time.
After my 48-year-old menopausal body climbed up the hill through 16+ inches of snow with every step, I boarded my plastic and foam vehicle, grabbed the thin rope for steering, and flew down the hill. In those 20 seconds of flight, with my dog chasing behind me, I looked down at my beautiful 12-year-old daughter and saw her smiling face as she laughed at the sight, and I knew this was something we both needed. After a good 1/8 inch of freezing rain this morning, followed by a good dusting of snow, it was the perfect condition for speed. I flew down the hill, over a once-grassy area, and crashed into a pile of snow. The crash flipped me over and tossed me onto my side into the snowy cushion. I was filled with uncontrollable laughter. My daughter ran over to me and looked down at me as she laughingly explained her perspective of what she just witnessed. The dog licked my face as the cold, icy snowflakes hit my eyelashes. This was bliss. It was pure joy.
After my 48-year-old menopausal body climbed up the hill through 16+ inches of snow with every step, I boarded my plastic and foam vehicle, grabbed the thin rope for steering, and flew down the hill. In those 20 seconds of flight, with my dog chasing behind me, I looked down at my beautiful 12-year-old daughter and saw her smiling face as she laughed at the sight, and I knew this was something we both needed. After a good 1/8 inch of freezing rain this morning, followed by a good dusting of snow, it was the perfect condition for speed. I flew down the hill, over a once-grassy area, and crashed into a pile of snow. The crash flipped me over and tossed me onto my side into the snowy cushion. I was filled with uncontrollable laughter. My daughter ran over to me and looked down at me as she laughingly explained her perspective of what she just witnessed. The dog licked my face as the cold, icy snowflakes hit my eyelashes. This was bliss. It was pure joy.
As I sat and watched my daughter climb the hill and sled down, I thought about taking my phone out to take a picture. Then I stopped myself. I thought, “If I don’t take a photo and share it somewhere, did this really happen?” It’s silly how we rarely just enjoy a moment of bliss without photographing it. I’m starting to forget how to just describe an experience without photographic evidence. So, I left my phone in my pocket and just stayed in the moment. I watched her every second of her journey up the hill and down, and she watched me. We laughed for what felt like hours and seconds at the same time. We talked strategy. We gave each other pointers. I closed my eyes to feel the snow hit my face and hear my daughter’s laughter. A core memory. I need more of these. I’m holding this one tight and keeping it.
When we got too cold to keep going, we trudged back through the crispy snow to our house, took off our layers, and went straight to the kitchen to make our favorite Mexican Hot Chocolate with lots of marshmallows. We laughed as we recalled the events of the day and discussed plans for our next trip out. The rest of the day, we listened to Bach, and she sketched and painted while I made meatballs and tomato sauce from scratch for the first time.
This week has been heavy. It has been hard to make sense of the world. It has been scary. Like many, I have felt fear, rage, sadness, and numbness all in the matter of hours. I have continued writing reports and filling out spreadsheets at work, while it feels like normalcy shouldn’t continue. The newness and excitement of the new year are gone. It was gone less than a week into the new year. I have spent so much time online absorbing the trauma in my community, my country, and the world. I have seen more than any human should see in a lifetime. My shoulders have been nearly attached to my ears; they are so tense, and my jaw has been permanently clenched. I have cried multiple times. It felt like any level of normalcy would be wrong right now. It felt as if I laughed too much; it would be insensitive.
Then today happened. I promised to go sledding with my kid, so I went. I thought I would probably just go and watch her while likely looking at my phone, but instead, I decided to join her. I don’t remember the last time I went sledding. I am at the end of my 40’s, so it’s really not expected of me anymore. But there I was, flying down a hill and experiencing joy. It felt so human. It felt good. It felt healing.
Things aren’t ok right now. I’m not ok. To face these things will take resilience. This requires moments of rest and moments of joy. It is not ok to completely detach yourself from what is going on, but it is ok, and I would argue necessary, to take breaks. Take breaks to find joy. We need reminders of what we are fighting for.
Blossoms of Bella 