The puddle has not changed because I watched it.
I have changed because I stayed with it.
I keep coming back to that.
The puddle doesn’t know I am here.
It doesn’t know I named the herons Stella and Stanley or that Hadley named a turtle Shelly.
Pinecone certainly doesn’t know there are people who now recognize a squirrel they have never actually met.
The geese don’t know I have watched their babies grow.
The mallards don’t know I worried about them.
The birds don’t know I sometimes feel guilty when the feeders are empty.
The puddle has simply continued being what it is.
Water.
Mud.
Wildlife.
Weather.
Seasons.
A little ecosystem behind our house that was carrying on perfectly well before I pulled up a chair and started paying attention.
For years, I wanted it to be something different.
Deeper.
Cleaner.
Healthier.
More like the lake it was intended to be and less deserving of the nickname we gave it.
There are still things I would change if I could.
But somewhere along the way, wanting something better stopped preventing me from appreciating what was already here.
I think that may be one of the most important things this place has taught me.
Appreciation doesn’t require perfection.
It doesn’t even require satisfaction.
We can appreciate something and still wish parts of it were different.
We can love a place and recognize its problems.
We can love people and know their imperfections.
We can appreciate our lives while acknowledging the parts that are difficult.
Maybe appreciation isn’t pretending everything is wonderful.
Maybe it is refusing to let what isn’t keep us from seeing what is.
And there has been so much here.
Baby geese growing into nearly grown geese.
Mallards learning their way around the puddle.
Herons appearing when I least expect them.
A turtle crossing water.
A squirrel stealing food.
Birds emptying feeders faster than seems financially reasonable.
Granddaughters walking beside the water and seeing things differently than I do.
Dogs sleeping nearby.
Neighbors stopping.
Brian sitting beside me.
Rain.
Heat.
Quiet mornings.
Long evenings.
Days when something wonderful happened.
And days when nothing happened at all.
I didn’t know when we put this patio in that I was creating a place where I would learn to stay.
Not stay forever.
Not refuse change.
Just stay long enough in a moment to actually experience it.
I have spent a lot of my life thinking about what comes next.
Planning.
Preparing.
Worrying.
Solving.
Wondering whether something should change.
There is usefulness in all of that.
But there is also something to be said for occasionally allowing life to be what it is before deciding what it needs to become.
That may be what appreciation has become for me.
Not a gratitude list.
Not convincing myself to be thankful because someone somewhere has less.
Not pretending difficult things aren’t difficult.
Just noticing what is here while it is still here.
Maybe that is why appreciation feels different from gratitude to me now.
Gratitude can be a moment.
Appreciation grows through relationship.
Through familiarity.
Through attention.
Through staying long enough to know something beyond the first impression.
I didn’t fall in love with the puddle because it became more beautiful.
I learned to see more beauty because I stayed.
And perhaps there are other things in my life waiting for that same kind of attention.
People I know so well that I sometimes forget to notice them.
Ordinary routines I assume will always be here.
Places I pass without looking.
Parts of my own life I have been too busy trying to improve to appreciate.
The puddle will keep changing.
Summer will eventually give way to fall.
Visitors will leave.
Others will arrive.
There will be things I miss.
There will be things I haven’t met yet.
And I will change too.
But I hope I carry this with me:
You don’t have to wait until something becomes what you hoped it would be before you appreciate what it already is.
Sometimes you just have to stay long enough to see it.
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