Walked 10km along the beach today, had a swim with the girls, then went to a cafe for lunch before plopping the girls asleep into their rooms by 1pm. Perfect weather - 27C, gentle sea breeze, girls in great spirits, simply a beautiful experience all round.
I looked at the girls, eating fish and chips and slurping chocolate milk and caught myself almost repeating something my father would have said at a moment like this. A 'perfect moment' where everything was calm, peaceful and we had experienced a lovely day.
My father would have said something like "You kids don't know how lucky you are," and shaking his head slowly as he looked over at my mother, "when I was your age we used to get fish and chips on special occasions." It was his way of teaching grateful.
One time he even said "You kids don't even know what it's like to be hungry - to be really hungry." As if we were meant to make sense of what he was trying to convey. Of his feeling of hopelessness and fear as a kid with a drunken father who had blown his wage the afternoon he got paid.
It was a curious situation, sitting after a meal with a glowing, satisfied feeling and then the sharp jolt of guilt that came with not knowing how lucky we were. It took me a while to unhinge the idea of guilt and allow myself the sublime pleasure of feeling quietly grateful instead.
I looked at the girls, eating fish and chips and slurping chocolate milk and caught myself almost repeating something my father would have said at a moment like this. A 'perfect moment' where everything was calm, peaceful and we had experienced a lovely day.
My father would have said something like "You kids don't know how lucky you are," and shaking his head slowly as he looked over at my mother, "when I was your age we used to get fish and chips on special occasions." It was his way of teaching grateful.
One time he even said "You kids don't even know what it's like to be hungry - to be really hungry." As if we were meant to make sense of what he was trying to convey. Of his feeling of hopelessness and fear as a kid with a drunken father who had blown his wage the afternoon he got paid.
It was a curious situation, sitting after a meal with a glowing, satisfied feeling and then the sharp jolt of guilt that came with not knowing how lucky we were. It took me a while to unhinge the idea of guilt and allow myself the sublime pleasure of feeling quietly grateful instead.
Your posts always make me smile. My (sober) brother turned 50 yesterday, He was counting change with his wee boys, seeing if they had enough to buy some legos. He said to me "I don't have a big deal life, and I don't want one." Sorting coins is enough when you have a peaceful heart.
ReplyDeleteMy grandfather used to say things like that... he lived through the US Great Depression. I think it was his way of trying to share history.
ReplyDeleteDo not feel guilty. You deserved this day with your children.
any day sober is such a blessing. the more gratitude i put into my life the better. being grateful even for the headaches and the bad days just knowing my worst day sober was 100 times better than my best day using and drinking. God bless you and keep coming back.. it works if you work it..
ReplyDeleteThank you for beiing you
ReplyDelete