Slivers of Sunshine

It's been a while since something in my life prompted me to write. And suddenly "prompted" doesn't even seem like the right word. "Drove me to my keyboard" may be a more fitting description. Regardless, it was one of those little nuggets in time that you wish would freeze and suspend mid-air because it was just so utterly perfect.

My son will probably never understand why a 25-minute ride home from a restaurant would have such an impact on his momma. But it did. After a particularly stressful day spent at the office preparing for an upcoming conference, I met Keith and Jacob for dinner. Afterward, Jacob elected to ride home with me--not out of preference as much as proximity of my car to the front door of the restaurant. 

On the way home, my 11-year old decided to assume the role of DJ and cranked up the radio as we got onto the highway. Normally, my somewhat-shy child would just coast along in the passenger seat observing the world around him (or a game on his phone). But not this night. 

As an upbeat song came on the radio, I couldn't help but move my shoulders up and down and semi-dance as I drove. I then noticed he was watching intently, mimicking each move that I made. With an ear-to-ear grin on his face, he giggled as I taught him the "crank the lawnmower" and the "shop for groceries" dance moves and he even made up some pretty impressive ones of his own. Each time we'd pull up to a light, I would call out moves and he would break out into dance while belly-laughing at his newfound confidence.

If age has seasoned me at all, it has taught me that there will be a lot of not-so-happy hurdles to leap virtually every day. Whether it's non-stop negativity pouring forth on the news, the fragile health of a friend or family member or just the stressors of "adulting," looking for the little rays of sunshine creeping in can salvage even the most disheartening of days. And glancing over at my shotgun rider this evening, I saw just that. Sunshine. And joy. All on the face of a pre-teen that is, at times, too cool to let me be momma while simultaneously clinging to me with every last string of little boy left in him.

I have no doubt Jacob won't remember anything significant from our ride home tonight. But, for me, it was much more. Those precious 25 minutes were a lifesaver for me. The smile on his face, the laughter, but most of all, the dropping of the "I'm too cool to dance with my Mom" facade was just what I needed to get through another crazy week ahead.

You never know when those slivers of sunshine are gonna peek through the wall. But, when they do, you better bet I'm gonna write about them. That's the only way I can figure out how to make time stand still. And, for me, that is priceless.