Emily posted this quote on Facebook, and if I hadn't already ruled out the possibility of divine revelation through Facebook, I'd have read it like a message from God.
I used to associate "living in the moment" with a brand of hedonistic irresponsibility. I mean, all you have to do is change one little preposition (living for the moment), and you sound more like Pitbull than Goethe, ascribing to that foolish mantra of "eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die".
I've flown a responsible holding pattern for most of my life. Save for tomorrow? Yes, faithfully. Plan for what's next? Of course, diligently. Work hard, wait patiently, and step carefully. I equated doing the practical, responsible, feasible thing with doing the right thing.
But I was wrong about what it meant to do the right thing.
Today, the right thing looks very different than it used to.
It looks like traveling 3,000 miles for two short days just to witness her happy tears firsthand.
It looks like driving too far, letting them stay up too late, leaving them in the care of those who reportedly fed them ice cream for lunch.
It looks like taking chances, making introductions, running up hills, dancing like a crazy (sweaty) idiot.
(I was going to post a picture here of me and Sharone halfway through our run, or of me and Alexis obnoxiously hamming it up before the wedding. But then I decided I wanted them to stay friends with me, and they may not agree that posting sweaty and or incriminating photos to the interwebs is the "right thing.")
The right thing looks like forgetting about the weeds and the dust and the disaster zone that is two bedrooms and hallway turned "fort",
like riding bikes instead of cleaning rooms.
It looks like staying up too late to finish a book and getting up too early to start a run.
Nothing is worth more than this day. So I pull out of the responsible holding pattern, lower the landing gear, and touch down into the joy of this day. Who knew it would feel so freeing to do the right thing?