Hello, late Sunday people or early morning ones that have already entered into a new Monday!
To me, the most beautiful thing is when I can spend time with my family. When my husband is not working and the children are not at school, we can have wonderful moments through the simple things we do. Today, I want to tell you how my life has been beautiful through simple things so far.
And the kids are with us:
I grew up in the countryside, and because there usually isn't access to so much, you learn to enjoy what you have and consider them extraordinary things.
I learned to find joy in small things and never ask for what I knew my family couldn't give me. And I never suffered because of it. I was actually very happy with what I had.
And do you know why?
Because I had moments that I'm convinced no one can buy.
We didn't have phones or tablets. My friend had some games on the TV, but they didn't even have the power to take us away from the time spent together. Most of our days were spent outside, not caring whether it was sunny and hot and we could get sunstroke. That's why I was the happy girl who spent two weeks of her summer vacation with her other friend, sunstroke, or when it was snowing and so cold that our teeth were chattering.
We didn't have much, and that's precisely why I think we were damn happy.
How do I know this? Because we measured our joy in the number of smiles, laughs, and moments spent with loved ones. And there wasn't a day when these things weren't present. Not in the number of friends and likes on Facebook.
And as long as the day was, you'd either find me at my friend's, whom I obviously didn't call to say I was visiting because I'd show up at her gate or directly in her yard, or I'd be at home helping my family, always with great joy, with certain chores. And yes, what beautiful years we spent with her. Now, even though we talk weekly, it takes us quite a while to meet again and spend a few hours together.
I used to run home just to get there as quickly as possible and see my mom, who always waited for me with the table set. And oh, how upset I was if she wasn't home, even if she left everything ready for me and a note explaining why she was absent. Then I'd quickly change, eat even faster, and run to where my family was just to be with them and help them, I'd say, with whatever they were doing. Now, we barely see each other for a few weeks a year.
I spent hours on end with my sister because I liked to learn, and I wanted her to take on the role of teacher, but also because I always wanted to be where she was. Even if that meant crying for hours to convince her to take me with her and her friends to play.
I remember every butterfly and ant we buried, after which I always cried, because, you know, I had training from all the convincing work I did with my sister when I wanted something. I also remember the hours we spent in the yard on a wheelbarrow full of green grass, which served as a bed, and from which, lying on our backs, we looked at the sky. Those were the moments when we didn't argue and tried to find as many clouds with interesting shapes as possible.
The evenings when the yard was full of children, and we played in the light of the bulb, or the ones when we ran hoping to catch fireflies were also some of the most beautiful.
And I don't need to think about the little things that made my childhood joyful anymore. From the baked potatoes by my grandpa on the stove, to sprinting through the rain, followed by sliding in the mud and then, of course, a bath like little pigs that my mom always had to give us, there are so many things that, although they seemed insignificant, were so beautiful.
Now... I try to find the same joy in the things around me. And yes, just like back then, there are just as many. Different though.
That's why I won't steal time from myself, but I'll dedicate a part of it to watching a sunset. Because even though the sun sets wherever I may be, it will always set differently at home.
Because no matter what age I am, I learned from a young age that joy isn't found where there's always a crowd. It's not in the car I drive or not. It's not in the clothes I wear or the phone I use daily.
Joy, or beauty, whatever you call it, is primarily found within us. It's also found in the eyes and arms of those who always wait for us with love. It's found in many moments from the past, but the most important thing is that it's found right now.
It's up to us to learn to look beyond the things that invade our lives daily and choose those that truly make us happy.
Thank you very much for reading this. It means a lot to me to be able to connect with new people here.
With care and love,
Helen.
