In our fast-paced modern world, sometimes it’s the simple, slow things that give us the most joy.
The quiet moments before bed with my children, snuggling them to sleep like all of the supposed baby instruction manuals tell me not to.
Drinking my initial cup of weekend coffee in the morning from first sip to last without devoting brainpower to any other task.
Sitting down to read an entire newspaper from front to back (or back to front) without interruption.
All of these ventures give me that warm and fuzzy feeling inside that is hard to replicate in the buzz of day-to-day life.
Actually, it was the topic of reading that sent me down the line of this train of thought.
I could sign up to the mailing lists of my favourite authors, set internet alerts or actively seek out their newest releases.
But that would take all the fun out of checking the stand at the local shops every Saturday morning while I’m waiting to pick up Eden from dancing, and having the wonderful surprise of seeing a fresh novel to digest.
It is one of life’s smallest pleasures — a pleasant surprise, that is — and curating it is a process in itself.
What isn’t one of life’s smallest pleasures is how old I’m feeling at the moment.
Not only are Eden and Bonnie growing up at the speed of light, but my body seems to be ageing at the same pace.
I woke up one morning this week with a killer back ache and no immediate reason for it.
But having laid down on the couch to start — and finish — the previously mentioned latest novel, I’m certain that the aches and pains are from simply staying in the same slightly tensed position on said couch as I strained to keep my face between the pages of the book.
Looks like I’ll need to put in some pre-novel work on the training track next time around to avoid a repeat dose.
Tyler Maher is the editor of the News and long-time bookworm.
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