There’s a line in this song by Kenney Chesney, about wishing he’d told his brother he loved him when he went off to war, rather than just shaking his hand… Makes me think of my grandpa, who had the same regret about his brother when he came home from the war. They just shook hands.
Grandpa loved his brother dearly but didn’t show it, and later in life it broke his heart thinking back to how little he demonstrated his love to the people closest to him. I remember being next to him, standing together on a green lawn in front of his brother’s grave, holding tightly to his hand while he broke down and cried for that loss.
I think it is the little things in life that break our hearts open in the long run, and it’s the little things that can, if we let them, guide us to a really good life, through simple joys and honest, unguarded expression of who we are and what matters most to us; it’s these little things that breathe us into the present moment, that move us into the sweet embrace of being alive. Every one of them is a chance to do some thing different.
They’re a call to us to get a little closer, a little braver, a little happier, a little wiser, a little kinder, a little freer, a little wilder, a little more of whatever we want to be, and perhaps, who we truly are.