The guilty pleasure of satisfaction

I have those days when I feel as if I put a check in every box--they are rare but they are rewarding. Today was one of those days.

I was relatively calm with my children, I was at peace with myself, I drank coffee during the flow of life, made a crock-pot soup, took pictures of still-life--something I do not ever do yet it was extremely satisfying and pleasurable--better still, I even downloaded those pics right away. I know, I know, terribly mundane but that's huge satisfaction for me--pics usually sit in my camera until my memory card is full and I'm put into a position of ranking--delete this one, keep this one--until I finally sit my ass down and do the deed (the downloading pics deed, of course).

I felt such tremendous satisfaction that I began to contemplate the circumstances of satisfaction and how relative that achievement is--it varies across the board. Some reading this (yeah, right--this will ever find itself out of the recesses of cyberspace) will yawn and probably forego the nail-biting conclusion to check the balance on their library card but others might understand.

When I am in the now, in the moment, I can find pleasure with a leaf floating to the ground, a clean sink, a cup of coffee or a meal concocted from fridge scraps--and this is where I want to be, this is where I want to live. Because the truth of it is, it brings me peace, calms my pace and I talk nicer to my children.

I like talking nicer to my children--I want to be able to look them in their eyes and deserve the trust placed in me when they were born.