“YOU ARE NOT ENOUGH PEOPLE!” my mind screams as I watch them together: my son and his music teacher, as they laugh with personality energies at music jokes I do not understand.
I am happy for his excitement and for him to have someone able to enrich both a talent and the enjoyment of an experience. I listen, a layman learning lessons (or beginnings of) in the background; same as I discover my children sometimes do at church—bringing home and speaking of lessons—from days I doubt they ever listened.
If open, we are always learning. When present, there is always an experience.
We will never be everything to another. We were never meant to be—parent, husband, wife, friend—we need further connections that, with meaning and purpose, enrich life experiences of one another; and each new one made (as well retained) is blessing wherever, whenever, however they arrive into our lives. All are gifts in experience of the present as well as what we carry forward after moment, or connection, end.
I stay in the background, witness my son’s excitement and growth in a talent and ability that eludes by ability to aid.
I am not envious. I am grateful. I am glad they have it.
We are gifted by all that appear into our lives, providing piece and purpose to experience that helps us on our way.
Observing, I provide my piece and do what they cannot. As outsider viewing on, I record a connection, exchange, and moment lived that leaves each of them in smiles: a moment common, simple, and easily forgettable, but—by writing—becomes forever-after saved.