We had K’s third birthday party today, just a small affair with family and a couple very close friends of K’s choosing. I like to throw parties, but I’m not spectacularly good at it. I’m always doing things at the last minute–like putting Hello Kitty on the top of a cake or tying balloons to chairs. I don’t care for games and don’t organize any. I have a tendency to plop down in a corner or walk around randomly snapping pictures.
Today was the same old thing, and also different. Today I let go of everything I didn’t do and focused on what was, per my post yesterday. What was? The girls–K included–running around all in frilly party dresses. Swinging, jumping, laughing. K riding a brand-new and totally herbike, and pretty darn well, too. People eating and relaxing and talking about nothing in particular on a warm summer-ish day. Enjoying our first party in our new house by rolling our eyes at the idiosyncrasies that came with it–like the temperamental screen door or the defunct sprinkler valve that left us with a yard full of mostly dead grass. It was a beautiful day. A simple day. It was three-year-old birthday party perfect, just being what it was.
I felt as though, for once, I was living in the memory. After all, most of the times I lament or fuss or stress, I look back with rose-colored eyes, enjoying the priceless nature of an irreplaceable moment. This time, I enjoyed the moment the first time around. I hope I can remember that, too.