It’s funny how it works, right? Your present thing is your only thing. We’re always making plans, always remembering. Always studying history and making predictions about the future. But you’re only ever allowed to be in one place at one time, doing one single thing. (Please stop calling yourself a multitasker, by the way. The whole concept is a myth.) Yet most of us are somehow wildly disconnected from this idea. We’ve accepted a puzzle-piece reality. Our minds on a moment that isn’t now. Our eyes on a screen. Our attention on someone else’s story. And our bodies - the lone member of the Present.
Unrelated. The last couple weeks I’ve spent more time with this hippie-rebel-monster child than I have with my husband. She’s always yanking my hair or my clothes and pulling me down to her level. She’ll whisper something that she thinks is a secret but is more like a fact about a very common thing happening around us. Like, “The sun is shining in our faces” or “My feet are dirty.” Then she’ll give me those side eyes, like we’ve discovered some universal truth about the world and only her and I know about it. Yesterday, she kissed me on the cheek a million times and kicked me in the knee cap twice. She called me a fat bitch and Mom. I think that means we’re on the right track.