I watched him descend the stairs at the ice forum this evening, his lanky frame sauntering in characteristic fashion and making me smile at memories of watching him walk across parking lots and down mall midways and across rooms for more than thirty years now. I watched him until he disappeared around the corner and into the corridor below.
I sat back and breathed deeply, the noise and beautiful chaos of a professional hockey game surrounding me like a comforting blanket and warming me against the chill of the ice below. The bellowing of horns and yelling of fans with arms and hands flailing in giant waves around the arena only deepened my sense of happiness.
This is my life. And it is a beautiful life.
On the ride home I could not stop smiling. We considered stopping somewhere for pie and coffee, then reasoned that we could pick up whole pies at the store and make our own coffee for less money and enjoy it (and whatever else our imaginations might dream up) in the comfort of our night at home alone.
Our reasoning was perfect.
Lately I've been giving more thought to enjoying each moment for what it is, for what it offers, for the beauty it holds, rather than worrying about other things or thinking about much of anything outside that teaspoon of time. Tonight I could feel that deep appreciation for every tiny detail of our evening together, like the way the scrapers left little mounds of powdery ice for the shovels to scoop up, the way the Zamboni hummed across the surface and left it shining like glass, the smiles and shrieks of delight from fans caught by the camera and displayed on the giant screen overhead.
Our team lost, but neither of us seemed to care.
The walk from the forum back to the car, stopping to listen to the street musician drumming on paint buckets, listening to old favorite songs on the radio, chatting about plans for the next few months...all of it was a gift.
What a blessing, this life. This simple, lovely, beautiful life.