Taking note…

more kites 041

I had caught a glimpse as I drove past the lay-by and nipped round the back of the surgery…there are benefits to carrying a camera in your handbag, even if it does weigh you down a bit sometimes. The buzzard was still sitting there, unconcerned by the passing traffic. I was glad I had noticed and was feeling quite pleased with myself when I walked into the surgery.

A young mother looking harassed, was filling out forms in the waiting room.  On one side of her, there was a quiet lad about twelve, obviously not well. On the other, a young gentleman of perhaps three. Given the age difference there was every possibility of a third child, of an age somewhere between the two but currently at school. Mum had reason to look tired.

Three year old was swinging his legs and looking round, smiling at everyone in sight. I caught his eye and smiled back, sharing that direct complicity that you only get, as a rule, from the very young. Particularly when they are intent on mischief.

His eyes wandered some more then lighted on his Mum. His face lit up with a big, beaming smile.

“Love you, Mum!” he said at the top of his little voice, leaning in for a cuddle. Mum wafted him away as if he was an irritating insect, not even looking up from her task. Puzzlement and disappointment chased across the little face. Crestfallen he shuffled back in the chair and seemed to curl in on himself.

It didn’t last long. Small boys are resilient creatures and within seconds he was happily tormenting his brother. The whole incident took less than a minute before they were called into the surgery.

I couldn’t help thinking about that little incident. I wasn’t casting blame … I don’t know the family and you can never read whole story at a glance. I wondered whether if the mother even realised what she had just done, and what effect it could have on her son. She was so focussed on the sheaf of papers that had to be filled in at every visit these days that I doubt very much if she had even noticed.

More to the point, how often do I do that? Or you? Simply not notice.

It made me wonder. I would hate to feel I have dismissed or rejected expressions of affection through inattention or preoccupation, especially from children. I would hate to feel I have missed the confidences of a friend… or those small, tentative ‘feelers’ that are dropped into a conversation in the hope we will notice and give them space to speak what burdens their heart.

It goes without saying that I have. How many times? How would I know? If I was not paying attention then the moment would be gone and I would never know what I missed. We are the last to see these flaws in ourselves, simply because the attention is focussed inwards.

We are all aware of those times when our attention meanders off at a tangent when someone is speaking. We have probably all read a book and found our thoughts wandering so that we have had to go back and start a page again. It isn’t that we haven’t read the words or heard them… we simply didn’t take it in. We weren’t ‘with it’, weren’t paying attention… though attention should not be regarded as a price to be ‘paid’, but rather as a gift of love.

Because, when you think about it, attention is a gift. The fact that we are able to lift our eyes to see the world around us, to be able to drink in beauty, share laughter, see a ladybird in the grass or a star in the sky… The traditional five physical senses allow us each to perceive in our own way, but none of them give us anything unless we give them our attention.

We can hear the warmth in a voice, read the hidden message in a mundane phrase… if we listen. We can gulp down hot coffee or savour its taste. Our skin touches objects every day, all day… yet how often do we take the time to notice the silken caress of water, the gentleness of the breeze or the life in the hand that touches ours?

There is that old saying, you have to give in order to receive. By giving attention to the world around us, we know its beauty… by being open to a voice we are allowed into the heart of a friend. By hearing a child say ‘Love you,’ we touch a moment of tenderness and joy. And in giving our attention to the moment, we give something else too, showing others that they matter to us.

We are human, we make mistakes… get distracted… frazzled… We will not always pick up the signals, nor truly hear every word. But we can try. Attention is something that grows the more we use it and so is the given gift that comes with it.

32 thoughts on “Taking note…

  1. I don’t see how, as a parent, you can catch every nuance, respond to every advance. I think it’s actually impossible. I also think there’s a tinge of reality here: we can’t always get what we want exactly the moment we want it — for whatever reason. Because life is more complicated than children understand — and often adults fail to explain what’s going on. I tried. I’m sure I messed up, but I tried and I apologized if I thought I hadn’t done my best. I think it’s good for kids to hear their parents explain that they really do have problems of their own to deal with — they will one day remember that conversation — and also to be treated as adult enough to get an apology from an adult. It was the best I could do. life was complicated on every level and I couldn’t be everything to everyone all the time.

    Parenting is hard.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. We all make mistakes and dodgy decisions and we all miss things…especially when we are learning to be parents. I think you are right that apologies and explanations can help the growing child learn, as much as learning they are not the lynch pin of the universe at every moment too. I was really thinking along boroader lines here though. We would normally want to notice such a moment… cherish it, even…but even those can pass us by when our attention is not open enough to the world. What else do we miss?

      Liked by 1 person

  2. We can be forgiven, I think, for missing some of the smaller signals, those fleeting, almost imagined moments. I just hope I have never ignored such beautiful words said to me in love…


  3. What a lovely piece,Sue. Thank you. I’m sure I made just as many mistakes when rearing our three sons as the next person, but advancing age (galloping?!) like wot I have… has a loud voice and underlines the daily fragility of life itself.As a writer, I am more than aware of the need to use our precious five senses as much as we can subtly introduce them, and that in itself is such a blessed reward. Hugs x


  4. I think I was caught by a speed trap in a lay-by the other day. “Didn’t you see it?”, asked my wife. “No, I was driving too fast”. I think it would be good to have awareness traps monitoring our speed of life. Slow down, take more in. 🙂
    Nice buzzard, one of my favourite birds.


    1. There are plenty of awareness traps out there…and we get caught daily. I wonder if a points system would get us to take note? 😉

      Buzzards and kites… there is not a day goes by without seeing them here 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  5. The fact the little boy was puzzled at his mum’s reaction makes me think he would usually receive that expected cuddle but worrying about a sick son, filling in the paperwork, waiting to see the doctor took up all her attention at that moment. I’ve made mistakes, missed important signal – I just hope not too many that I did harm.


    1. He had to have learned that ‘love you’ from his Mum too… and yes, we’ve all been preoccupied and missed things. It was simply that watching the interplay made me think…


  6. A beautiful message, Sue. It is true what you have said here. I am sensitive to my boys and don’t think I would do this. I am guilty of going off the deep end if they nag me about something. No-one is perfect.


Please leave a comment - we would love to hear from you

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.