Lately I’ve been wanting to feel more romance.
Not in my relationship with the Mr. But….in general. I want life to feel more…romantic. I want to look at freshly falling snow like it’s beautiful and magical. Not immediately groan and think about all the shoveling and cleaning off my car I’ll have to do.
I want to go outside when it’s dark out and appreciate the street lights and the light they cast.
I constantly find myself seeing the negative in everything right off the bat. That’s not what life is about, right? It can’t be. Now I know what Belle was talking about in Beauty in the Beast. “There must be more than this provincial life” She wanted romance too. She wanted her life to be something like the books she read. I can honestly say now that I am craving the same thing. I want to make the most out of the small moments and make them more than just the small moments. I want to keep my eyes wide and dreamy.
When I was a child I was so imaginative. I remember, we used to have a house up in Vermont that we’d go stay at for Winter and Summer vacations and the stories I used to come up with…or the thoughts I’d use to have while walking around…they were so big and grand. I remember precisely one evening it was a blizzard outside. I had bundled up to go sledding with my siblings and there were these snow tornadoes blowing about. I remember seeing them and imagining this beautiful snow goddess summoning them and it made the night so much cooler. Looking back, some might think of that night as just a night of sledding…but something about it being pitch black outside…with nothing to light our way but the glow from inside the house and a porch light…and these beautiful snow tornadoes that just made it such a fond memory for me.
I wasn’t thinking about how cold or wet it was…how the snow always managed to work it’s way down the back of your coat or right into your boots and get your socks wet. I wasn’t thinking about that at all! Perhaps it was because as a child we have so much less to stress about. We don’t have to worry about shoveling or getting to work in the “white crap” that I’ve resorted to calling it. The snow was just…snow. And at the same time maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was something that this beautiful snow goddess was conjuring up.
Where did that imagination go? Where did the thoughtfulness and magic go? Why is everything suddenly about work, money, and bills? Why is it that we lose the magic, the romance as we get older?
I have to remind myself as I continue to age to not lose that magic…that mystery. That romance. That whimsy. Life is what you make it after all. And even if you have to sit through a work day, remind yourself to find those little moments of magic. I assure you that the world will seem like a much brighter place.