It’s the little moments.  Not the big grand ones, but the little insignificant moments you will always look back on and wish you could be in that place again.  Just for a second. Just an ounce of your day to remind you that your history isn’t gone.

Once those little moments are taken for granted, you will not appreciate moments as you used to; you will need a daily reminder that the little events need recognition too.  Though you should remember to appreciate these tiny, obsolete moments, you never ever do.

“I’ll buy a vowel Pat!”  

The TV glowed in the tiny den with the three of us trying to guess the word on the screen.

“The Painted Desert!” My grandma yells extremely confidently.  

I continued watching the mesmerizing screen, messily eating my mint chocolate chip ice cream, and my brother does the same.  

“The Painted Desert!” The TV yells back at us.  

“How did you guess that grandma?” In my head I thought.  

We sit there for hours just watching whatever we want without a care in the world.  My brother stood up to go scoop more ice cream and I hold my bowl out for him to refill me up too.  

The little den is dimmed as the sun outside starts to set.  The den is just the right temperature, I don’t know how, but it always is.  My brother comes back with both of our ice creams and gives mine to me. I took a bite of the seemingly perfect mint chocolate chip ice cream.  The ice cream was perfect: the mint flavor, the chocolate chunks, it’s perfect every time. Wheel of fortune finished, therefore Alec changes the channel to Disney.

My grandma asks “Is this on all day?”

“Yes grandma, we’ve been over this, there is a whole channel for kids shows.” My brother says calmly.

“That’s stupid, back in my day we only had the sunday cartoon.”  

She finishes her rant, while the paper with a magnify glass sits on it on her right side in the very center chair of the cramped, but home-like room, on how kids brains will rot, still, we continue watching, because secretly, she enjoys them too.

The garage sale-ers were waiting there to pick whatever they can put their hands on.  I sit there at my little table with the money-box, looking at all the old people rummaging through my past-grandmas possessions.  No respect. Absolutely none. For her clothes, and cups and decorations. I sit there with my mom and brother just watching, making sure no one steals.  

The cool morning air blows on my neck as I stand up to go fix something crooked.   

“How are you doing honey?” My mom asks me delicately.

“I’m okay mom.”

I go and sit back down and there's no one to watch because it's empty now.  I sit there in my lawn chair dazed off into the distance. The hum of the power lines and the whisper of the wind fills my ears.  My throat starts to dry up which makes me stand up and go inside to grab a coke. Though no one lived in her house, her fridge was still full of drinks for the whole family for the garage sale.

I don’t know what coerced me, yet, I started towards the hallway towards the den.

I take small soft steps towards the den, wanting and not wanting to go into the empty room.  I slowly turn into the den. Still warm. The same smell of childhood safety and comfort still lingers. I stand there for what feels similar to forever, just remembering the hours-spent watching wheel of fortune, eating thanksgiving with my brother, and watching Disney Channel.  The endless card games played between my grandma, brother and I. All of the little details that made her house, home.

A feeling of sadness overwhelms my body and I start to tear up.  A feeling of the incapability of getting those simple moments of pure bliss back.  A feeling of guilt that I didn’t appreciate those bowls of ice cream more, or the popcorn more.  A feeling that, no matter what, will never be replaced. This feeling of longing for those moments back.

The feeling of not appreciating those little moments.

I stand there, coming back to reality, wishing that I could turn back time: I’m 10 again,  hanging out with my grandma and brother in that den, laughing, playing and eating. The same comforting smell I was always greeted with as I walked into the house.  The same warm feeling I felt in the den. The same feeling of home. The same feeling of love.

It seems now that knowing that enjoying the little moments brings us back to reality in this seemingly fake and unrealistic world.  The “enjoying the little moments,” you receive makes you appreciate the big moments more. Staying grateful and taking in those little moments makes you realize how precious and rare they seem to be.  Appreciating those little moments is everything. Those little moments bring you back to your roots; enjoying those moments is what there needs to be more of. Those little moments.

Enjoying those little moments is absolutely everything.