These are the things.

I get terrified that someday, in looking back at any point of life, that the days will seem indistinguishable.

We have routines, we make rituals, we find shortcuts to homogenize our days and make them more efficient. That’s good in many ways, I guess. When I look back though, I want to see and feel the vivid realities that made a day, each day, every day, stand out. Today had its challenges, and I wasn’t always a pleasant person or parent and had to say I’m sorry. But there were many good moments. A few for history.

Five things to distinguish this day

The children singing along to Hamilton and discussing the casting choices.
Playing tennis on the volleyball net in our yard; a yard that has wild grass flourishing and a solitary brave blueberry bush standing sentinel. If one were to see a photograph of our land, one might be tempted to think that it was neglected, or abandoned, or perhaps the homeowners’ riding mower was broken and the part was still ten days away from delivery. Those might be your thoughts. But the vivid reality, of course, is that wild and chaotic weedgrass is simply lovely to play tennis in with a volleyball net. Plus, it’s good for the bees.
The children discussing Newbury winners, Sherlock Holmes, and the importance of good typography and layout in quality books.
Taking a fast exploratory trip to a favorite swim hole on one of our local rivers to grab a quick hike, some wading, some snacking. I love loved watching our daughter instruct her younger brother how to properly skip rocks across the water.
Our daughter sticking on Dave Brubeck’s Turk a la Rondo to kick off the morning.
Our ten-year old reading news aloud from Washington Post and BBC and reminding me, accurately so, that they’re both fairly well regarded on non-partisan media bias charts. We have lots of these conversations.
The older duo tag teaming to bake chocolate cookies. With plenty of squabbling and negotiating beforehand as to which recipe and ingredients.
My wife, returning from work, still bringing a smile and warm presence to her kids and me as we wait for and greet her at the top of driveway. That’s not an outlier. That usually happens. But still: worth documenting.
Discussing food with our three-year old and playing with him in his play kitchen. When I asked him later what a highlight of the day had been, he said: “when you were making stuff in my kitchen with me.” May I make more time every day to do so, and make that a better ritual.
Our 12-year old asking what my favorite flora cash song is today. I love talking music with her. Answer: Missing Home.
Interrupting my birthday brother’s 35th self-treat of binging The Politician and Dominos to engage in multiple short chit chats about politics, movies, and life. He is someone that has filled my life, and many others, with massive joy and generosity since his 1985 arrival.
The way our 10-month old wanted to nap this afternoon cradled in my arms, eyes open, just looking at me. Neutral expression. Just looking, eyes focused, until they slowly drooped. He just wanted…me. To be with him, to hold him, to love him, to keep him safe and content until…Mom got home.