Waiting to Exhale–the art of living an ordinary life




Waiting to exhale.

That’s me.

I’ve lived in Michigan, Texas, Oklahoma, Indiana and British Columbia.

I’ve touched the Wailing Wall, walked through Piccadilly Circus and climbed Mayan ruins in Guatemala jungles.

I’ve gotten engaged twice, married once, and gave birth to four kids.

All the time I held my breath, waiting for that special moment when every detail of my life would fit together like an intricate puzzle.

I held out for one of those picture-perfect holiday Christmas dinners.

  • Fluffy mashed potatoes.
  • Crispy browned turkey.
  • Savory pumpkin pies.
  • Impeccable communication.
  • Total understanding.
  • Absolute lack of drama.

I’m still waiting.

I envisioned my kids to rushing to do their homework right after school . I imagined them singing praise songs while solving math problems and memorizing science facts.

(Quick observation – Deprivation of oxygen does funny things to the brain.)

I promised myself that when I finally lost weight, got my degree and organized my house I could relax. My life would begin.

I don’t know how long I’ve been holding my breath. Days. Months. Years.

I have gotten so consumed with the future I haven’t really noticed the value of a normal day.

  • A sticky kiss from a little kid
  • The pungent scent of new cut grass
  • An upbeat song on the radio
  • The music of a stalled engine that finally starts
  • The beauty of a good night’s sleep
  • The brilliance of butterflies, regular garbage pickup and fresh water from the tap.

I’m red-faced. My lungs ache from waiting to breathe. I’m tired of demanding unrealistic expectations be fulfilled.

It’s time to exhale. Lay in the grass. Count the stars. Trace my name in the sand.

Life is not a marathon with set paths and predictable patterns.

It’s countless, precious moments strung together to make a day.

Each one is worth being lived.