Early Saturday morning: I eavesdropped on politicians over eggs and toast in downtown Franklin.
I shopped – bought myself a cocktail ring and a necklace to go with the outfit I was wearing that very moment – before meeting up with my little girl at the Starbucks on the corner. She drank a hot chocolate, then we walked back down Main and bought stationary at a favorite shop.
We drove to Nashville, windows rolled down. Alternated between her music and mine. Taylor Swift and a mix CD compiled by a creative friend several years ago.
We sat in the middle of Centennial Park, writing letters to people we love…
An international festival glittered all around.
Bands played. A man helped little boys fly a kite. Young ladies danced to Hindi music. People ate Indian, Ethiopian, Cuban, Mexican food. We drank lemonade.
Friends stopped by – Chuck and Jason with lunch, Chris with his dog; Katy was there in pigtails. But Lily and me, just the two of us, nestled into our own little world. She wrote me a letter and addressed it, “To My Loved One”.
After awhile, it was time to go – to the next gathering… With more friends, more little girls and their parents, more live music and more dancing. We drank beer and ate from food trucks.We laughed and relaxed.
Some went one way – toward the suburbs where Courtenay ordered a pizza and supervised a sleepover for our girls. Some went another – to an art crawl downtown. I went to the east side with an old friend. We sat down at a favorite bar and he ordered a drink with fire in it. The music was loud and perfect.
I drove home, and a hand-written card awaited me in my mailbox.
Do these moments happen because we will them, or are they always there but sometimes we’re just more open to experiencing them?
Lily had said in the morning, “I love to plan things, but I really love random days.”
Full of opportunity, void of obligation.
I found myself telling her – in the middle of the wide-open, blue-sky afternoon – “This, this right now, is a gift from God.”
Said with all sincerity.