The Gift Of Memory Is the Greatest Gift of All

Recently, I saw an old Mork and Mindy episode where Mork, after freaking Mindy out when he gives her a dead fly broach as a Christmas gift, learns that it's the thought that counts when it comes to gift giving. So he uses his Orkan powers to give her a new gift, a long forgotten childhood memory.

Today, I read a post on Julie Shwietert's blog Cuaderno Inedito titled There Will Be Some Days When You Get Nothing Done Except Loving Your Family. Reading Julie's thoughts on time with her family brought back vivid memories of the days after Lila was born.

That first week was the most free week of my life. I didn't think about work, cleaning the kitchen or how much baby weight I needed to lose. I didn't look at my watch. I turned off the phone and didn't once check e-mail.

I completely disconnected, in a very very good way, from everything in the world that usually plays such a huge part in my life and focused only on Lila and Noah. It was, without a doubt, the most memorable, most beautiful week of my entire life.

We moved by Lila's needs.

When she was hungry we were awake to feed her. When she slept, we did too. We regularly changed diapers. It's amazing how many a newborn can go through so quickly. I remember Noah and I standing over that tiny naked body. Four hands, two brains petrified of somehow destroying this new life as we tried to remove the old wet diaper, wiped her down with water until clean and then gently lift her little body to place it on a clean one.

Neurosurgery performed by two inexperienced parents. Neither of us had ever before held a newborn until the day Lila was born.

Seven suns rose and then set.

One morning, I lay on the couch nursing and watching how her body spanned the width of mine. At the same time, the sun rose, turning the walls of our apartment orange and golden, then lighter and lighter. The sun poured through creating shadows of window pane on every surface inside. The shadows moved slowly from one side of the room to the other and then disappeared as the day arrived.

Never before and never since have I been able to be so consciously, so fully in the moment. It made me wonder if  perhaps the days when I accomplish all else -- work, writing, organizing the house, running errands -- but I don't spend as much time with Lila and Noah, if perhaps those are really the days in which nothing of equal worth was done.

Thank you, Julie, for reminding me.

Comments

[Rachel O]

And thank you to bringing me back to my Ellen. This was so beautifully written. I spend too much time forgetting how important what I do just to keep my family happy and alive really is.

[Leigh Shulman]

I think most of us do. I know I get really wrapped up in my work, especially. I was chatting with a friend yesterday. She works as a counselor for drug and alcohol dependence.

She was saying how so many people seem to forget how to stop and appreciate the joy in life. That they/we are so busy working toward our goals -- which is great to have a purpose -- we forget to take time in the present.

She also said that often when people do reach their goals, they realize it doesn't make them any happier than before, and that can lead to depression and other dependencies. Because once they reach their goals, they lose purpose.

Really interesting perspective, I thought.

[Pres]

Enjoyed the article, Leigh!
Keep writing!

[Leigh Shulman]

When I get comments like yours, I only want to write more.

Thank you, Pres!