Sunset at Antelope Island

I can feel the back of my neck tighten as I sit in bumper to bumper traffic on my way home from the lab, rushing to go pick up Huck from my parents. I feel trapped in a little box with wheels on the freeway. There have been too many days like this this past month. Rushing, waiting, rushing, waiting. Hustling and building and chasing and nurturing.

The dreaming and the chasing and the hustling can make me forget to appreciate THE NOW. THE PRESENT.

I have this idea about the life I want for Huck and myself--- this list of goals I look at a few times each day. I mean, to be honest, there are things about our life that I’d like to change. Like the f*@$ing commute to the lab. Or living far away from my favorite mountains and friends. And the distance between my front door and my favorite pizza place. I’d like more sleep too. And more time to work out. More time to be creative. And I wouldn’t mind finding less smeared food all over everything I own.

But then I stop and remember.

I might have to drive further to work, but I live closer to family (which is a major plus in Huck’s and my life right now). I live further from the cottonwoods, but closer to other interesting places, like Antelope Island. I might not live as close to Este (favorite pizza joint), but I’m still eating it once a week. And really, the smeared food all over everything I own is a trail behind Huck (apple of my eye, love of my life, center of my world).

When I get to my parent’s house, I hang out with them for a little while. I decide to take Huck to run around barefoot on the beach at Antelope Island. I call my brother and have him meet us, and we talk about a lot of nothing and even a little bit about important things. Huck and I eat a late dinner, and definitely get to bed waaaaaaaaaayyyy too late for a weeknight. There is still salty sand from the beach in my tub, and dirty dishes in my sink. But for a few hours I stop hustling and chasing and running. I sit in the sand and watch my little boy throw rocks in the salty lake.    

This is the dream. We are already living it.

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