Today

Here's what is happening today as I walk Tanner through the park: 

A baseball team in white, pinstriped uniforms with 'Seals' emblazoned across the front in old-timey script takes batting practice on the field. Their bat boy, who might be six, wears an oversized red foam hat and stands at the edge of the field imitating them, taking big swings with a wiffle ball bat. 

Two women, barefoot in the grass, practice standing yoga poses that defy gravity. 

Trash-talking and laughter drift through the rose bushes surrounding the bocce courts, over the strains of Nat King Cole. 'Are you real, are you warm, Mona Lisa? Or just a cold and lonely, lovely work of art?'

A woman relaxes under the small stand of trees near the day care center. A shopping cart in front of her is loaded with possessions. A dog crate is affixed to the bottom rack of the cart. Her three nearly-identical white fuzz-ball dogs go from tussling playfully with each other to standing in a row at full attention the moment they spot Tanner and me, their black button eyes bright and alert. 

A tall, thin man with a long beard and youthful voice patiently teaches his son, who is maybe seven years old, how to execute a basic trick on his skateboard. The man's own skateboard is near at hand.

Brightly colored flowers, patterns and hop-scotch grids have been drawn in fresh chalk on the sidewalk by a child's hand.

Acorns drop from a couple of oak trees at the edge of the parking lot. Their shells are shiny and brown against the green grass. 

Bees gather pollen from the clover that dots the lawn. 

Leaves on the small decorative trees in the median are starting to turn shades of orange and red.

A toddler gripping a well-worn Velveteen Rabbit stuffed toy leads the way into the community center followed closely by her mother. Dad locks the car and trails behind them, carrying baby brother in a car seat.

A pair of ravens hidden among the branches in the heights of a redwood tree squawk at each other. 

Two of my neighbors watch the baseball team warm up while they share a smoke in front of the building.

* * * * * * * * * * *

I've always taken pleasure in noticing and appreciating my surroundings, wherever I am. But I am beginning to realize that perhaps I've been moving too fast the last several years, letting the search for some nebulous big picture obscure the small, immediate things that make up a happy life. I'm grateful for this opportunity to live more slowly, in a place that feels like home. And so the pilgrimage continues...