Fish Out of Water

I am the happiest fish out of water that you’ll ever meet.

Last night, I felt like a stranger in my own home. Left out of two separate conversations, I beamed as I went about my work. I knew I was living my dream.

This year, my daughter voluntarily and even with intense excitement, “gets” to take pre-Algebra. She took the test to join the class because she wanted to, she waited eagerly for the results, and she celebrated when she got in.

Last night, she needed help with her homework—help I had no real chance of offering. Lucky for her, her dad, the math major, was right there for her. As I listened to them talk, I had the same sensation I felt when she started her current school.

There she goes. She’s taking paths I’ll never walk.

This year, my son decided to start piano lessons. We’ve been working up to it for a while, but he decided when. Last night, at about his seventh lesson, he started sight-reading his new piece, a simplified version of “Chim Chim Cher-ee.” As his teacher corrected him gently, using terms I recognize, but don’t fully understand, I felt it again.

There he goes. He’s taking paths I’ll never walk.

Those words, though the easiest part of the experience to convey, form only a fraction of what I felt. I love to witness mastery, to witness true flow, to witness joy in action, in any form. When that beauty occurs within our children, born of our love and my body, my own joy soars.

Nearly a day later, I bask in gratitude. I give thanks for the opportunity to live my dream—and to know it. I am one lucky fish out of water.