This time of year, it's hard not to think about that three- or four-month whirlwind of activity we call summer. That beautiful season when people actually fly north to visit you, instead of the other way around. That time of endless daylight, warm-but-not-too-warm sunshine, and the best fishing and scenery this side of, well, anywhere.
It's hard also not to go completely batty every time we get another two inches of snow, or hear about a friend's Hawaiian vacation, or have to listen to that person in the office who comes in singing "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas." (That was me Tuesday, by the way, and I was the only one who thought it was funny.)
April and much of May around here are rather depressing, as any mental health worker will tell you. I'm thinking it stems from what some have called "a culture of immediately."
OK, maybe I'm the only one who calls it that. Let me explain.
It might be just me, but I think we all would like the ability to speed up time when we are looking forward to something in the future, then slow time down when we are doing that thing that we were looking forward to.
We're a bunch of planners, really, waiting for that next vacation or fishing trip with the buddies. And we live in a society that is determined to get us what we want when we want it fast food, high-speed Internet, etc.
This time a year, we're all preparing for summer, for instance.
Often, there is little joy in the process of these preparations. We're taught to delay gratification until we achieve something. Then, when we get that thing, or achieve that something, we jump to something else.
Oftentimes we skip some steps along the way or take short cuts, then complain when the final product isn't as good as we thought it would be.
For me, it's taken 30-plus years and a 14-month-old to realize that I have this problem.
Last week, I watched my son take his first real, upright steps. They weren't pretty as they sort of had the stiff-legged look of a 1940s-era movie mummy. But they did the trick, and the look on his face was amazing and revealing.
It was a combination of complete shock and ultimate joy. You could tell he was proud of himself and seemed excited about all the possibilities that could result from this new perspective.
He walked back and forth between his mother and me, and collapsed in our arms each time more because he was laughing so hard and lost his balance than anything else.
While witnessing this milestone of achievement it hit me.
During those few steps, we were all completely living in the moment, completely excited about what was happening right then.
I doubt he was thinking to himself "if I learn to walk now, then in a few months I'll be running and then in a few years I'll be playing shortstop for the Yankees."
I wasn't even thinking that. We were all just standing there enjoying the process, completely happy with any results or outcome.
And I think, in a way, that is how life should be.
We can spend all our time making plans for the future, and some planning is necessary for sure.
But there's joy to be had in taking baby steps, too.
And real life seems to happen when all we're doing is putting one foot in front of the other.
Ben Stuart is a reporter for the Homer News. He can be reached at ben.stuart@homernews.com.
