On a Sunday in early December I went for a sail. Also on that boat was a cute, blonde six-year-old girl full of gumption. (Don't you just love that word?) Between giggles and silly six-year-old questions, like "What if the ocean was made of chocolate?!?", she announced that we all stop and take a drink of the air. So we did. She said, "It taste so good!"
I've always, always wanted to go sailing. I guess if I had a bucket list, it would have been on it. And that Sunday in December met all of my hopeful ideals for sailing. And the dolphins we saw? They were just icing on the cake. But of ALL the things I took away from that day, I remembered what Hana, the six-year-old, said the most. To stop, and not only take a deep breath, but drink it in. Really, really taste it.
I've thought of this many times since then. If only Hana knew that such a simple statement would make such an impact on me. Often over the last couple of months I will randomly stop and take a few deep breaths. One to make me slow down, another to pay attention, and the last one, a drink. A big sip. A lungful of everything present in that moment.
I've always, always wanted to go sailing. I guess if I had a bucket list, it would have been on it. And that Sunday in December met all of my hopeful ideals for sailing. And the dolphins we saw? They were just icing on the cake. But of ALL the things I took away from that day, I remembered what Hana, the six-year-old, said the most. To stop, and not only take a deep breath, but drink it in. Really, really taste it.
I've thought of this many times since then. If only Hana knew that such a simple statement would make such an impact on me. Often over the last couple of months I will randomly stop and take a few deep breaths. One to make me slow down, another to pay attention, and the last one, a drink. A big sip. A lungful of everything present in that moment.
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