“He Heard a Ruffle in a Bush”

When did I quit seeing the little things? When did things cease to stir awe inside me? Some of my best memories are filled with small wonders, fleeting moments, little things.
I still find joy whenever I spot a dolphin in the ocean. The first time was when I was nine or ten. My cousins were visiting and our families headed out one summer morning for the beach. When we reached the parking lot, we kids ran to the walkway over the road that dead ends into the sand. Looking out over the sun sparkled sea we saw three dolphins curving in and out of the water. I was so enthralled as I watched until they were out of sight.
Even a small touch, a hand on mine, can mean so much. One night as a teenager, my dad was driving me home from a school function when it began to pour down. The rain and lightning were so severe that we sat in our car in the driveway until there was a lull in the storm. Dad reached over and took my hand. I don’t recall what he said, but I do remember it was a real surprise. Dad had never been very affectionate. I’m not sure what he was feeling, but I remember the tender thoughts that stirred within me. I let him hold my hand. I wasn’t scared of the storm, but I didn’t want him to know that. I wanted him to think he was comforting me. Maybe that night was the beginning. I know, for me, it was very revealing. Dad really loved me. I know because of that small touch.
I need to be more aware of these moments. I don’t want to miss the dolphins or rainbows or falling stars. I want to enjoy wind chimes in my backyard and the ducks in my pond. I want to hear the ruffle in the bush.