A few years ago while vacationing in Belize, my brother and I were discussing the definition of a perfect day. To him a perfect day is not one that consists of planning, organizing, or forethought. It's not something you can expect or conjure. It just happens.
We sat at a beach-side cafe overlooking the turquoise blue waters. Plastic tables and chairs sat haphazardly in the sand as the sweet rhythms of Rastafarian melodies danced in my ears. And I realized something. As he spoke I thought about how we had planned the trip. We booked airline tickets, hotel rooms, and a few excursions to immerse ourselves in the culture and experience of the islands. But the joy rested not in the hotel or the transportation. It was delivered in glimpses of beauty. It was the sand beneath our feet, the palm trees that swayed as we devoured our weight in key lime pie and the freshest fish from the deep blue sea. It was the laughter we shared and jokes and memories made. I don't remember what specific day we planned a trip to the Mayan ruins or what time our fishing boat left that awarded us three glistening barracuda on our hooks. I remember the moments and the peace felt within in sharing the daily joys of what is not planned.
As I sit typing this my sweet dog is laying in front of the fireplace, my husband has spent the day in his jammies and the house is filled with the aroma of a home-cooked meal. I had planned on being productive today; running errands and organizing some tasks. I kinda blew them off and you know what? I may be a better person for it. Sometimes we must allow ourselves to be taken wherever the world wants us in that moment. We can't plan the most perfect moment; for that is nearly impossible. But we can recognize it and capture it to memory.
Seeking out but not expecting.
That, my friends, is a perfect thing.
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