The Etcetera’s of Life

Oooohhh…the blah, blah, blah’s
and the
wah, wah, wah’s
and the
(ears covered with your hands) La-La-La’s

What is it about the “etcetera’s of life” that get dismissed in your nightly re-cap at the dinner table?

I remember I was super frustrated and close to tears when Lilliana threw up her breakfast in the car on the way to a family outing…we ended up calling the day a wash, but what I told people was that Lilliana got suddenly sick and we decided it was best to stay home.

We were super late to Emoree’s drama rehearsal because we needed to make a snack stop and had to go aall the way home because she forgot her script, but what I told her teacher was that she just forgot her script. (Snack’s are a family MUST-HAVE).

“We are running late!” when we were taking pictures of my daughter’s before we left, OR the very strong possibility of yours truly needing to change from jelly or coffee not making the large opening on my face that is my mouth…

Ah, the etcetera’s of life…the ocean view on the way to work, the way Lilliana wags her arm when she walks, the way Emoree drags herself out of bed every morning, or the way Sam seems to remember every detail of every single thing he gets to experience every moment to his life. The swift movements of her fingers over the piano keys, the focused look on her face when Emoree is watching The Flash, and the disappointed look on Lilly’s face when she can’t sit on my lap because my nails are wet.

Some seem to be more involved with the end product rather than the quality details that make it all happen. I never stopped to smell the roses until I met Sam. I didn’t even have a full grasp of what that phrase meant. Smelling the roses doesn’t just mean to enjoy the moment…it means to love how you got to that particular moment….love who happens to be with you, and be grateful for every detail that lead you to that moment….The Etcetera’s of Life are your life. When you finally see the roses, when they are there in front of you, when you see the wind move the leaves, and the thorns are slightly exposed…when you feel the smooth petals and the rough texture of the stem, smell the rose.

Why tell people you went to the beach when you can tell people you felt the sun on your skin, the wind in your hair and the sand crawling in your toes?

Others will be grateful to hear your journey to the roses, and some just wanna hear that you made the trip.

Those etcetera’s belong to you and only you. OWN them and CHERISH them. SHARE them.

Queen

 

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