Guest Author - Barbara Gibson

One of the best things about the lazy days of summer is the leisurely mornings. During the school year we have to be ready for the arrival of the school bus at 6:56. Summer break means there is no bus. Instead, I drive my son to camp each morning before I head off to work.

Mind you there is a trade off. Where formerly I rode accompanied only by my thoughts and the music of my choice I now have a very chatty companion. The Wiggles are his traveling music of choice.

I don’t have enough fingers and toes to count how many times I hear the excited cry, “look” during our thirty minute ride. No, we don’t take different paths. We travel the same way every day. Still, my son finds something new to delight him every, single time.

It doesn’t matter how many times I say, “Mommy can’t turn around because she is driving.” His excitement will not be reined in by mere safety concerns. It bubbles out of him. When I do turn around at a red light or stop sign his eyes are as bright as they would be if 100 watt bulbs sat behind them.

He really sees the world - the way the sun shines through the trees, birds with wide wingspans soaring above, fire trucks, orange cars, people walking dogs.

What does this all mean? I have to pay attention because he wants me to see all these things, too. Not as familiar objects though, but as things unique to that moment. I am forced, then, to regard each thing anew; to look for the extraordinary in the seemingly ordinary.

I’ve heard it said that you never step in the same river twice because it is constantly flowing and changing. These car rides remind me that life is also ever changing. Every day is brand new. Sometimes while rushing here and there, too busy even to stop for gas, we fail to notice. Sometimes we behave as if we are living the same day over and over again. We imagine ourselves in a rut because we fail to experience instead of assume.

Assuming we’ve been there and done that we don’t experience people, for example; we don’t listen because we think we already know, we don’t look because we think we have seen it all before. We don’t stay present because we assume the moment before or after this one is, for one reason or another, more important.

Tomorrow we will head out for camp. I can’t guess what will grab my son’s attention along the way, but whatever it is I'm looking forward to experiencing the moment of delight with him.