The Cupboard

When my children were small, they sometimes played in a large cupboard that held pots, pans and unwieldy pieces of Tupperware when not otherwise occupied by one or both of them. We called it the fat cupboard. They would empty it out, crawl in there with a dog or two, and enjoy the peace. My daughter especially enjoyed this "secret spot". If I found that she had come up missing and there were pots and lids scattered about -- I had a good idea of where she was.  I just left her there and enjoyed a little break.  It wasn't as if she couldn't get out or anything. The doors opened easily. I figured she was imagining or sorting something out -- both worthwhile activities.

A while back I had a conversation with a friend who had read a column in a magazine about how we sometimes forget to appreciate the ordinary in our lives... that we get caught up in the mundane routine and overlook the special details that really are there in "everyday stuff". She pointed out that it is understandable that we do this.  She spoke of living through and surviving those tumultuous teen years and the uncertain 20's and 30's of our own lives only to watch the struggles of our own kids' tumultuous teens and young adult years...then of how in what seems a brief moment, we find ourselves in our middle age years, sharing in the difficulties of the elder years of parents - if we are still lucky enough to have parents. You get the idea and obviously she had given it some thought.  She suggested that it is sometimes hard, if not impossible, to be fully mindful during routine chores like making beds even if you remember that it is important to appreciate the small things in life, including the satisfaction found in doing even really small jobs well.  She mentioned other special details like quick hugs from grandkids, and kids, finger prints on the frig, puppy nose prints on the front door and being able to sit and read in the afternoon, or to fall asleep, but think you are reading. There are special details in our everyday lives that we miss. Perhaps the peace of a brief quiet time is a part of that.

It is sometimes hard to "see the magic" especially when caught in the midst of what has come to be termed the "sandwich generation" in which lives are caught between the responsibilities of caring for those of the generations on each side of our own.  It's a process, one that people usually survive relatively intact.  They come out at the end of the other side of that tunnel to emerge into a lighter, less heavy place.  It's a nice place to be if you can get there -- if for only a short or interrupted while. Figuratively speak, I am thinking that, from time to time, even as older generation adults, many of us could use a roomy cupboard where everyone would know to leave us alone for a bit so that we can imagine or sort something out -- maybe even consider the special details.  After all, we can always get out and rejoin the fray when we want or have to, and in the meantime, who couldn't use a little quiet peaceful time? It's restorative.  It's not an age related issue.  If we can have a dog we love with us -- all the better.