Tomorrow

I just read the kids a few of our library books before their naps and I told them we needed to return them at the library tomorrow. Fisher said this: "mom, how come you always say tomorrow?" His question was like a dart to my brain. It gave me pause with how simple and powerful it was. Why do we spend so much of today thinking about what we have to do or want to do or plan to do tomorrow? Our thoughts are always running to the past and the future, occupying our minds like a second home. Is it laziness (I can't even count how many times I've told myself that tomorrow I'd remember to drink more water--simple things like that that I often don't follow through with), is it avoidance (we're not pleased with how the day is playing out so we invent the next), or is it that we overextend ourselves so that we can't keep up with all the things we need to do. Reasons vary. But what do we miss when we don't engage fully with the present? And maybe that's not possible to do all the time, but Fisher's words remind me how I need to try more--and I have the rest of the day to honor that. This morning I held the present in the golden light through my window, thought of nothing but what surrounded me...

And now the clouds are rumbling and water drips from higher places. I see droplets held like a breath on blades of grass. A hummingbird flew sideways. I'm just going to go with it.