I’m sittin’ on the dock of the bay
Watching the tide roll away
Ooo, I’m just sittin’ on the dock of the bay
Wastin’ time
-sitting on the dock of the bay, otis redding
That was me today. Not on the bay, and not watching any tides. But pretending the 5 feet of decking beside a little man-made pond at my parents’ get-away home was a dock where I could loll and do nothing. Letting the sun beat down on my winter-chilled body and warm me through and through. Pretending to giggle and wriggle when my kids tickled me with tall grasses or sticks that were “magic wands that make people happy”.
If only. I sat and wished their magic wands did just what they were pretending. Not understanding why I was so sensitive, ready to blow my top, and kinda sorta foggy-brained today. Maybe I was relaxed–too relaxed. Or not sleeping in my own bed tuckered me plumb out. Or I wasn’t used to all the fresh air and sunshine I’ve been taking in lately.
The memory of this moment is so much better than the actual event, so I’ll revel in my embellished remembrance–editing out the parts where I was micro-managing my kids, yelling at them for throwing tree limbs in the water, pretending to laugh when really I was annoyed that they were interrupting my 30 seconds of serenity, trying to coach myself into the moment that I knew was so special and precious but seemed to belong to someone else.
