I have discovered minimalism.
Its tenets have pierced through my armor, irritating the decades old flesh of complacency.
I nestle down into its message like a feathered nest and gather the warmth around me smelling the freshly woven grass of home.
I can feel its liquid sense seeping into the pink involutions of my brain informing decisions and denoting action.
Every other Monday I have lunch with my children at their school; a precious island of laughter, sweet embraces and anxious stories shared in a fleeting half hour span.
Last week my daughter briefly left the table to refill her water bottle and I glanced around the stage at the other parents sitting scattered among the tables. I dropped my eyes to the ground when I noticed that all, save one, sat staring at their phones as their children desperately clamored for their divided attention.
The cats in the cradle and the silver spoon….little boy blue and the man in the moon…..when you coming home dad…..I don’t know when but we’ll get together then son…..we’re gonna have a good time then….
Oh the adult world; simmering with deadlines and staff meetings, homework and spelling tests, doctors appointments, bills and teeth cleaning and more and more and more.
To make a conscious decision to stash that phone away for thirty minutes and raptly stare into the flushed face of your immorality as they regale you with tales of their latest Pokemon trade or point out the tender flesh of a skinned knee.
To find more happiness by choosing less.
And as I watched each of my children skip away to join their class, I felt myself instinctively reach into my purse for the object that was now the keeper of my time and I thought to myself…..
What if I went and unearthed my grandmothers wind up watch?
An exquisitely delicate piece of metal, gears, and cogs that could hang lightly on my wrist and tap out the rhythm of simplicity; sound the drum of gratitude for what we already have and echo the pulsing beat of life.