Last weekend, I sat with both families of Frosses at a concert in the park. We sat on blankets, high on fresh air and good company, as the last few hours of another perfect summer day drifted off. We watched the Littles bask in the attention of so many familiar faces with watermelon sticky hands and tired eyes.
They were illuminated. They were surrounded by love and they knew it. Maybe the more accurate thing to say would be: I am always surrounded by love, but sometimes I forget it. Sometimes I forget to look hard enough. And they remind me, these perfect Littles and their remarkable parents. They remind me to look. The ease and comfort, the giddy giggles of our tiny humans perfectly loved and sensing the attention and connection to their people in such close proximity is a fraction of what these golden hours were for me. My Frosses stumbled into my life during a time I didn’t realize I needed so much extra love. These hours with my people were and are my reminder from grace to look for the love that is always around, represented so perfectly by the accidental love that walked into my life when I thought that I had simply signed up for a job.
Often at home, I’ll exclaim sarcastically, “what a time to be alive!” when one of my roommates or I has had a truly ridiculous day at work and we’re feeling like Monica, Phoebe, Ross, Rachel, Joey, and Chandler, just trying to make it through another day to get back to each other and commiserate.
This evening in the park, I thought to myself quietly in a mental whisper, so soft I almost missed it: “what a time to be alive.”