My desk is in chaos at the moment.

I could blame Ben, of course. He stood here at wanted to see all the tools in (one of the) mugs I use for writing utensils.

And then he wanted to see “that”. The orange thing. And I got down the small truck my dad brought home from a trip decades ago, the one that was broken when I got it, the one with the tiny plastic tires that have come off the wheels for the same decades.

He left his phone here, the one his mother and uncle played with, the one he was using to order pizzas from me, which he then delivered to his grandmother sitting on the sofa 10 feet away. So many pizzas he ordered. And he never remembered to tell Nancy about the cinnamon twists I was including in the orders.

I could blame him, but my desk is a breeding ground for 3.5 year old curiosity. And the desk which I brought from my dad’s office still has some of his stuff.

Ben’s cookie at Panda Express yesterday said “Relish in the present moment.” He does. And his present moments are rooted in decades of past present moments.

When I started writing these words, early on Friday morning, my mind was in chaos, too. I’m better now. Taking the time to relish those moments with Ben and Nancy and I laughing, the moments of looking into my dad’s desk and my grandpa’s shop. And then using my fingers and words.

I spend a lot of time anticipating what will go wrong. And reflecting on what has. I live with and research and write about grieving and being helpful. But at this present moment, I relish this opportunity to talk with you about the moments that are right.

Occasional. And more than we think.