A Delight
A couple of years ago, my word for the year was treasure, and it may have been that year that I really started on purpose to notice and be grateful for the details of my life: the heat of coffee, the softness of my plaid blanket, the crisp taste of water on my tongue. Every day had a million reasons to be thankful and even joyful, but too often, I was so busy that I missed them.
This is one of the reasons I love The Book of Delights by Ross Gay. Mr. Gay, an award-winning poet, decided to write a short, lyrical essay a day for a year on things he found delightful. Each one reads like a brief, lovely prose poem. He wrote about everything from flowers to coffee shops to the experience of being Black in America to the joy of connection with others, and while some of his essays describe challenges, they are also whimsical and generous and musical.
This premise made me extraordinarily happy. I love finding people who are actively seeking joy in a difficult world, and especially people who are writing about it. Joy seekers shine a light in a dark place, and then they light our candles too, so we can share the light.
In honor of Mr. Gay and of how very deeply I am enjoying this book, here is my own attempt at an essay of delights.
We have started watching The Great British Baking Show as a family, which is kind of funny, because while I used to love to bake, my skills had gotten rusty. This year in quarantine was the first year I actually made a birthday cake for one of my kids myself, and as I sat down to frost it (sloppily, badly), my whole family gathered around the table to watch, as if this was something unique, like a solar eclipse, and they were unsure they would ever see it again.
Partly because of the show and partly because of the slower pace of life this summer, I have started to bake again. I made three rounds of cookies in the last week alone, and I have attempted bread four different times (only one was both beautiful and delicious, but it’s not like we didn’t eat the messy ones). My daughter has started reading cookbooks and pointing out things for me to bake. “Make something” was on my to-do list for today. It’s fun, and I love what I’m learning.
But what I love more than baking is watching the show with my kids. My daughter really gets into the competition, worrying for each baker and stressing when they do poorly. For me, the show itself has become second to watching the show with her. Every time a baker has a misstep, or Paul says they did well, she whips around to look at me.
She’s at the age where she is starting to roll her eyes. She has her own opinions and does not always care for mine. But when she is emotionally invested and thoroughly enjoying herself, she turns to me, to see my reaction, to see--I imagine, I hope--if we are the same.
My heart jumps, every single time.
I will never not be grateful.
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