Simple joys in life, with a cardboard toboggan

Today, a Monday, I was most unproductive at work. It almost felt like I was on holiday. The thoughts in my head just would not stick. I was here, there, everywhere. Taught my class and it was over even before I knew it. Got into the lift and was so immersed in a conversation with someone that I forgot to key in the floor we were going to – the conversation so good combined with my head in the clouds, not that there were any in the Auckland sky today. I even came home earlier than usual and spent some of the afternoon in the garden. Work can and will wait. Because this weekend’s effects are still lingering.

It started with running up North Head in Devonport with the two kids of one of my closest friends on Saturday. They are 10 and 12 years old and me, well, most of you know my age. According to my friend, I had found my ‘gang’. And yes, it felt natural to sprint up a hill, several times, in competition with (and winning, of course, have you met me yet?!) two kids who play rugby and soccer in their respective local clubs. I watched these kids’ smiles and their simple take on life – “I am hungry, I need to run, please take a photo, dark tunnels – yikes, let’s leave Mummy here!” It was hilarious watching them try to navigate their way downhill on a makeshift grass toboggan, aka a piece of cardboard😊.

Now, where I come from, you just get on the cardboard and let go. Deal with the bruises and maybe broken bones later. Children these days are more cautious. Good on them. The 10-year old managed to get all the way downhill in the end, after a lot of coaxing and small accomplishments along the way. Sprinting uphill and tumbling downhill was of course not enough so walking on rocks on Devonport beach was also thrown into the mix (with grown up kid leading the way). Caught up in the moments of careful rock-stepping, we missed the great spectacle of fish having a high jump competition in the water behind us.

Almost seamlessly, the same energy and buzz flowed into another day, spent in the company of another set of close friends – my adopted family. Having got together to remember our collective losses of loved ones this year and funerals that could not be attended, I found myself immersed in yet another afternoon that was filled was laughter, love, and food. I did not want that day to end. It was one of the best weekends so far this year.

I wonder what life would be without these moments. Maybe I am getting sentimental in my old age (!). No matter what – a pandemic, a bleak economy, upcoming elections and referendums with the dilemmas of who and what to vote for, job losses, bank funds running dry…all the highs, and the lows of this year – we can still find happiness in the smallest things, and the smallest things make the most difference.

Today, when my head is still in the clouds in a cloudless sky, all I want to write about is the simple joys in life. It is the friend who looks to you as their moral compass. It is the 2-year old who scrapes her knees on your driveway and runs to your arms for comfort. It is the letting-go feeling when sliding downhill on a piece of cardboard. It is the singing of a song (out of tune and being told so by your friends) to a little baby.

It is the comfort in knowing that no matter what, you have a little place in the world.