The biggest, most beautiful and terrible storm of the year blows through. Thunder booms and lightning flashes and our little dog trembles. Gerry holds her on the sofa wrapped in a blanket.
“I’m going to try to record some of it,” I say as I grab my phone and head out to the deck.
I record a few thirty-second audio and video clips while I watch the flashes and listen to the thunder that seems like it’s right on top of us. (It is. There will be reports of strikes and fires started by the lightning nearby when the storm passes.)
And then I stop. What am I doing? No thirty-second clip is going to capture the awe I feel in the storm’s midst. Who am I recording it for?
I go back in the house and find Gerry sitting in the dark on the sofa with Maya looking out the picture window at the storm. I realize he has chosen the better thing.
How easy it is to get caught up in things and step away from being present. I talk about it a lot, I think about it often, but I don’t always choose wisely.
It takes practice. So, upon realizing it, I begin again.