The Subtle Strength of a Moment

When a long, holiday weekend approaches, many of us start making plans. We arrange barbecues, plan parties, book trips. We anticipate the days and the fun and the time with family and friends. And, then, it comes and it goes, quite quickly, for that seems to be time's plan. Afterwards, when asked how we enjoyed the weekend, we then get to reminisce as we try to express what was special and memorable about the days.

As I reflect on the past Memorial Day weekend, I am surprised by the image that stands out in my head -- the image that pushes its way to the front of my mind, leaving all of the memories of time with out-of-town guests and friends in the shadows. Yes, I went to the Cub's game, I spent time with my sister and her family from San Francisco, I went to parties, and I even danced all night. But, none of those great experiences are the images on which my mind's spotlight shines.

That memorable snapshot was taken on Monday evening on the Edens expressway, en route from Glencoe to Deerfield.

My three kids were in the car, and we were driving to my mom's house to spend time with the family. I had the windows down and my music playing. We were all tired after a lot of running around all weekend, and we all were eagerly anticipating some more family time. And, then, a song by Muse came on the radio.

"Mom! It's your favorite band," Emily joyfully exclaimed, with her shining face smiling at me in my rear-view mirror.

Danielle immediately started dancing as the beat gave her no other choice. She looked free and happy and adorable, as she bounced and smiled and danced in her carseat.

And, Ben ... he started playing the air drums. Perfectly. I tried air drumming, too (nothing wrong with some extra percussion!). Ben tried to instruct me (as I'm clearly a novice air drummer), explaining that my right hand should now hit the cymbal while my left hand hits the drum. Different beats. Various timing. I was banging both hands at the same time, to the same beat. I was doing it all wrong. Yet I was so proud of his rhythm and his interest in being a part of our little Partridge family moment. He actually put his iTouch down for this, instinctively!

Emily, of course, reminded me to put both hands on the wheel, and, thus saved me from my flawed attempt at drumming. So, I stuck to smiling and singing. Fortunately, none of the three little ones have yet established an ear that can detect one who sings off-key. I am still spared ... I get to sing frequently and loudly as I let the music flow through me.

My eyes watched the road, but they magnetically flickered continuously to my rear-view mirror. They bounced from the image of Emily's glowing smile to Danielle's dancing body to Ben's drumming. And this was my moment.

This was our moment.

I don't know if they enjoyed it or absorbed it as much as I did. Maybe their moment of the weekend would have been sliding into the water at the water park. Maybe it would have been swimming in the pool with all of their cousins. Or, maybe, it would have been this moment -- this moment when they were being driven down the Edens ... singing, dancing, air drumming, smiling.

The music filled the air, it filled the car, it filled all of us. We all were lost in it. It was such a simple moment. And, those, I continue to learn, are often the most beautiful.

So, when I think about my Memorial Day Weekend, it is that most simple and most beautiful moment that I will continue to cherish. And, I will be grateful, once again, for this spectacular glance at life's subtle beauty.