A lot of big things happen in a lifetime. Generally speaking, this idea gains momentum as a reality for all of us sometime in our twenties. Even heading into adolescence you might sense it. If you’re lucky, these big things are happening to other people and, in the innocence of your youth, you can view them as distant and unrelated to you. If you’re not so lucky, they hit home.
Shortly after I turned fifty, my husband of sixteen years suddenly left. The unraveling of a relationship that needed mending came as a shock to me. I frantically grabbed my sewing kit just in time to hear the bedroom door closing behind him. Just like that. The kids felt it, I felt it, I felt what the kids felt, the kids felt what I felt—round and round.
Flip-flop.
I can’t say that big moment didn’t create change. A ripple began in my universe that can spread out all around me if I let it. My thoughts can become dark if I permit it. My worries can overwhelm me if I allow them to. Some days my regrets loop like words to the Sinatra CD I hear in the background while waiting for my coffee. But if there’s a silver lining; if the Phoenix can rise from these ashes (or my preferred visualization: if Scarlett O’Hara can stand after throwing up that wretched turnip, raise her fist to the sky, and vow never to go hungry again—or never to eat a turnip again unless it’s properly sautéed), I know I will get through this big thing and I’ll do it, just like the study suggested, by relying on the little things.
When I laugh with my kids over some silly joke, when a friend calls, when I transplant a Japanese maple and it thrives … or when I get an annoying chain letter that involves articles of clothing and exchanges of said items … these little moments that bring me joy, serenity, contentment or inspiration. Our lives are defined by our feelings, not our memories of the past, nor our projections of the future. Bad things happen that turn lives upside down—they’re part of the human learning curve. But they fall together a little easier for me if I focus on the Little Nows that make up the Big Picture. It’s what we have, not what we haven’t.
Flip-flop.
By Beth H. Allen
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