So we have found ourselves of late battling with the stomach flu. We were not victorious, leaving us house bound for about a week. I should be bothered by these circumstances, but instead I almost enjoy it. Not in a Munchhausen frightening way. Left to my own devices, I would cloister myself up in my house, leaving only for brief trips to the library and bookstore. I possess the tools to be social. (well, I hope I do. I suppose that is a little bit like telling someone you are funny. Its probably best recognized by someone else.) But I find the most peace, the most balance when I am alone with my family, no social entanglements pressing in and reminding me to hurry up, get ready. I almost resent the intrusions.
Somehow this separation and quiet allows me to feel as though I am more present and connected with the little nuances of my life. I treasure the scent of my children right after a bath, that mix of soap and the outdoors we were not quite able to scrub off them. How they like to snuggle like wet noodles, the warm bath having soaked away their energy stores. I love the clamor they create in anticipation of dinner. Watching their faces drawn in rapt attention at a favorite show. The jokes they tell each other and the belly laughs body noises incite. The questions they ask about death, life, and love. The blooming of their imagination at play. I love that my children are so authentically and unapologetically themselves and they don't even realize it's not the norm yet. In those moments, they take me with them, transported back to a simpler time where imagination was reality, the simplest things the most valuable.