Floods have caused this extreme depth advisory. Do not read if you can't swim.

Sometimes,
All I can see is how much I have. I look at Little One smiling and running at me, too fast too fast, top-heavy with momentum because She knows I'll catch Her, and the incredible light of that moment fills my mind so that all I can see is how beautiful the world is.
All I can do is notice how warm our meal is and how cozy the fire is, making the winter air somehow sweet and friendly in the window glass. All I can smell is the baby shampoo-curls under my chin, and my husband laughing with family rings in my ears and everything sounds like music.
Isn't the world a beautiful place? Isn't the sky so big and always putting on a show, just for us? Aren't all the tiny moments of being a parent, a person, alive and awake just so precious and so lovely in a million microscopic ways?
Yes.
I'm glad that I'm lucky enough to be able (most of the time) to see past the laundry pile and the bills and enjoy all these treasures. I'm glad that I have so much in my bubble, my personal little realm of existence, to luxuriate in, and that I see a beautiful world because that's what I happen to have been given.
Sometimes I can just take happiness and feel it and let my heart fly around on it. But sometimes I can't. Sometimes I have to remember that the world is only this beautiful in patches, like spots of sun filtering in through a forest canopy. Some of us are in the shadows.
There are mothers, just like me, who know that they will not live to catch their child every time it wants to run to them. There are children just like Little One- millions of them, millions- who have no one to hold their arms up to. There are homes with no fires, where the winter air turns nefarious and creeps into the lungs of babies and grandparents, stealing them away in the night.
There are families for whom consuming terror is as constant a part of daily life as running water is to me. What a paradox.
What's the answer to that reality, Peanuts? We all become Mother Teresa? We fester with guilt and shame until we are miserable despite our happy circumstances? Just ignore it all for lack of a better idea?? I wish I knew. I don't. I don't know anything. But I'm pretty sure the last one is the worst of all the options there are. What do you think? What do you do?
I think (not that you asked) that to not take the full amount of joy and appreciation for the multitude of wonderful things in my life would be insulting to those who don't have enough prayers to even wish for what I have. It would be insulting for those who have hard lives, but don't want what I have. So I try to.
I catch my running child and I fall over laughing, calling out "I love you!" I stop to stare at my husband, exhausted from a long day, and to notice how handsome his eyes are, kiss him because I can. I tell stories with my mom and sister and friends, and laugh about silly things until my ribs ache. I cuddle the dogs, ignoring the fur on my dress. I walk in the rain, because I can feel it on my skin and its wonderful, because I can walk free and safe on the streets and its wonderful, because I have a change of clothes and a cup of hot tea at home.
But in between those moments, I try to read the news I don't want to. I hold the gaze of the man with the cardboard sign in the median, I smile at him. I close my eyes and imagine mothers like me, sharing the same globe, but living in different worlds. I try not to forget them. And I wish I could find better answers. I'd be happy to hear yours. Maybe they could help me to have something better to pass on to Little One, someday.