Behind the Puddle

It really doesn’t take much to make me happy behind the puddle.

Apparently, my standards for entertainment have changed considerably.

A squirrel hangs upside down from a feeder?

Excellent morning.

A goose walks through the yard a little closer than usual?

Obviously worth watching.

A hummingbird appears?

Whatever I was doing is no longer important.

Shelly crosses the puddle?

Everyone needs to know.

Stella or Stanley attempts a slightly less than graceful landing in a tree?

Best thing I’ve seen all day.

I have spent an embarrassing amount of time watching birds eat.

And somehow, I am still entertained.

None of these things are particularly important.

That’s what I like about them.

There are so many things in life that are important.

Appointments.

Responsibilities.

Money.

Health.

Family.

Decisions.

Plans.

Problems that need solving.

Things we need to remember.

Things we wish we could forget.

There is always something deserving our serious attention.

And then Pinecone appears.

For a few minutes, nothing needs to be solved.

I can simply watch a squirrel attempt to acquire a snack using a strategy that seems unnecessarily complicated.

That is delight.

It doesn’t fix anything.

It doesn’t teach me an important lesson.

It doesn’t make tomorrow easier.

It simply makes this moment better.

I think adults sometimes underestimate the value of that.

We want experiences to mean something.

We want to be productive.

We want to grow.

Learn.

Improve.

Accomplish.

Even rest somehow became something we’re supposed to use wisely.

But delight doesn’t ask us to become anything.

It just catches us paying attention.

Children seem to understand this naturally.

They can spend ten minutes examining a rock.

They notice a bug crawling across the sidewalk.

They laugh at something that makes absolutely no sense and then laugh harder because you’re laughing too.

Somewhere along the way, many of us begin walking past those things.

Maybe we decide they aren’t important enough.

Behind the puddle, I have apparently begun reversing that process.

I notice dragonflies.

I watch clouds.

I listen when the birds suddenly become noisy.

I look for a squirrel I’ve seen dozens of times.

I take pictures of a turtle that consistently refuses to pose close enough for a decent photograph.

And I have discovered that an ordinary day can contain dozens of tiny reasons to smile if I don’t require those reasons to be significant.

Maybe delight was never something we had to find.

Maybe we just became too busy looking for bigger things.

There will always be serious things deserving my attention.

I know that.

But I hope I never become so occupied by everything that matters that I miss the things that don’t.

Because sometimes a completely unnecessary moment of happiness is exactly what a day needs.