I am eating a pear.
It is the best pear on planet Earth.
It was grown from seed, intended just for me. It is the sweetest pear I have ever tasted. It has a floral bouquet.
It is a Comice Pear.
I am looking at our baby. She has the bluest eyes I have ever seen. She has the softest skin I have ever touched. I have been waiting all my life for this moment. This moment has arrived as a culmination of all prior moments.
I breathe deeply. I taste the sweetness. I memorize the smell, the touch, the surroundings, the weight of my body, the moisture level in the air. I take a full, sensory snapshot of this moment and consciously envision placing it in a keepsake box, with other memories.
I stretch my arms. I move in slow motion. I breathe in. I hold it. I exhale an ocean breath, really trying to sound like the ocean, even as I look at a chilly blanket of snow.
I am here. I love here. Here is where I want to be. Here is where I have been eager to arrive; all my running, all my sleeping, all my eating was to bring me here. I smile.
I smile a little at first. I slowly reach the corners of my mouth outward, growing a smile, feeling what every level of smile feels like, until it’s huge. It’s the biggest smile I’ve ever smiled. I’m so happy, my throat wants to close. I open my throat and take a deep breath and hold it for a second, feeling full. Full of sweet, fresh, healthy air.
And then I release it all and go back to cooking, cleaning, typing, planning, hoping, imagining . . .