A Little Less Reflective
I was reading back through my posts today and realized that they have become very picture heavy and very word lite. Not that that is necessarily a problem. Photography is a hobby that has moved to the forefront of my passions and I love it. But, what this less than wordy pattern means to me is that my moments of reflection have been few in ratio to my moments of doing.
I’ve always adopted the notion that life should teeter on the delicate balance of acting and reflecting on that action. I feel that experiences are single moments of action instead of memories until you take the time to think about them a little. It’s great to remember the time when you had a spontaneous lunch with your grandparents but some of the value is lost if you don’t stop to reflect on just how much family plays a part in your life and how grateful you are for those times. Or recalling the smile on your grandfather’s face. Or the smell of your grandmother’s cheese biscuits wafting through the air and making your mouth water in anticipation of that first bite.
It’s these reflections that make life and memories so wonderfully magical. Experiences are nothing without our reaction to them.
Which is why I’m realizing I need to slow down a touch. In talking to Husband last night I told him I could barely remember what we have done in the afternoons for the past two weeks. I don’t want to ever feel that way again while we are living here. I never want to take life so fast that it can only be recalled as a big blur.
The day of our wedding I sat in the still quiet of my room and just breathed. It was so important to me that I remembered every detail of that day. I still remember hearing the sound of the rain on the trees outside before even opening my eyes that morning. I remember when the girls walked in champagne and orange juice in hand. I remember listening to Iron & Wine play as I watched all the girl flitting around fixing their hair and make-up. I remember everyone yelling through the castle to determine each other’s whereabouts so that Husband and I didn’t see even a glimpse of each other before the big moment. I remember putting on my papaw’s rain jacket and standing in the drizzling rain decorating the arbor my dad built denying that we would not be having an outside wedding, and my dad telling me I had to make a decision about having it inside because it had started monsoon again as soon as I walked back in the door. And then I remember my dad’s sweet sweet words (that still make me tear up) telling me to go get ready and not worry about it, he was going to get everything set up and if it quit raining even 15 minutes before the start time he would get our wedding outside. And I remember walking back down because I couldn’t stand not being involved and walking into the most beautiful wedding set-up I could have imagined and tearfully telling my dad not to worry about getting it outside, it was beautiful and it was just as it was meant to be. I remember standing in my gown and catching a glimpse of my dad outside the room and bursting into tears. I’ve always been a Daddy’s girl. I remember him clutching my hand for dear life as we took our first step down the aisle. I remember feeling an enormous sigh of relief when my veil got caught on a flower arrangement and it took the tension away from the moment (although Husband thought I was changing my mind when I jerked back haha!). I remember talking to Husband throughout the entire ceremony (oops!) and how dreadfully long, however beautiful, the song we had chosen for my mother to sing was. I remember feeling excited and overwhelming relief that it was over and demanding a shot of anything once the bridal party made it back to the waiting room. It ended up being Red Stag for anyone wondering. I remember Husband’s smile throughout the night and how funny he looked dancing (because dancing is REALLY not his forte). And most of all I remember going to bed in utter amazement that I was married and Husband was finally my husband.
I’m so grateful to have these memories and reflections.
Our two year anniversary is in a few weeks. I really can’t believe it. In a way it seems like only yesterday, but in a way I feel like we have experienced so much more than could possibly be just two years.
When I was younger and still going through dating various boyfriends there always came a point where I knew the relationship was on the outs because I had reached my peak. My peak of the amount of love I could feel for that person. The peak of my excitement over the future with that person. The peak of my willingness to continue working on our relationship.
There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t love my husband more. There isn’t a day that he doesn’t find a new way to amaze me. No matter how exciting or difficult our life has been I have a never ending excitement for what it will bring.
Our life is a reflection worth reflecting on. And regardless of all the fun things we are doing I vow to stop and smell the roses so to speak and appreciate them one by one.
