Steps are steps, right? Well, maybe not. What appeared as a series of steps to my husband and me had transformed into a magical destination for someone else.

Perception. Imagination. What one person perceives as utilitarian — a means to move from here to there — another person imagines as a work of art, worthy to be the stage for the most important question he’s ever asked.

Those steps have never again been “just steps.” I now see them through a different lens, a lens which opened my eyes to a different possibility that had never crossed my mind. The view from the young man’s lens enriched my appreciation, believe it or not, of those steps.

How dull the world if people came off an assembly line one after the other, all identical, with everyone only seeing steps! But, no, we each view life through our own unique lens. That different lens provides the world with remarkable diversity.

Note to Self:  Recognize there’s more than one way to approach, understand, or view life. Appreciate diversity.

A week later, at the appointed time, my husband and I watched discreetly through our front window as the young man kneeled upon the magical steps before his girlfriend and proposed. At that moment, their world expanded, a new threshold revealed, ripe with potential. Tears in my eyes, I recognized all of us are actually presented with this fresh beginning each morning we open our eyes to greet a new day. I admit there are days my lens turns cloudy and I fall into the rut of my daily routine, forgetting to savor life, which tends to pass us by in a blink of the eye.

Note to Self:  Each day is a gift. Treat it as such. Embrace possibility. Stir the imagination. Do one thing differently, outside the routine. Learn the name of a new flower, sing a song out loud, greet a stranger when out walking. Be present.

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Although Mom passed away 8 years ago from complications of Alzheimer’s disease, a belated appreciation of her has slowly blossomed, especially in the past couple of years. At random moments, I’ve experienced an unmistakable yearning to hug her tenderly and voice my gratitude one more time. In earlier years, I sometimes seemed to lack the ability to show my appreciation in a way that she could relate.

She was born in a time of little. As a child, farm work was the only extra-curricular activity she experienced outside of school. On the other hand, while I was growing up as the only child still at home, it was quite the opposite. Mom did everything in her power to offer me as many experiences and opportunities as possible in our small town. At various times during childhood, not only was I involved with Scouts and 4-H, but Scottish and Hawaiian dance lessons, as well as music lessons, including piano, clarinet, voice, and organ. I’m quite sure I didn’t appreciate the opportunities presented as well as I might have. In fact, it’s probable I took them for granted. Not only that, but I was terrible at practicing my dance and music lessons.

As a teen, we were often at loggerheads, as I struggled to grow up and establish my own sense of self in an ever-changing world. Sometimes, in frustration, she’d shout, “No one appreciates all that I do.” I did my teen-age best to appreciate her, but I have a hunch my actions may have fallen short. The years passed, I married and had a family of my own.

Mom was always there for my family and me. If Mom could say, “yes” to a request, she did, even when “yes” meant taking care of my 3 children for 2 weeks when my husband and I had an opportunity to travel to Europe for my husband’s business. It couldn’t have been easy to step into the role of “Mom” for 3 children when you’re in your 70’s and not at all used to the hustle and bustle of a busy family. Now that I’m a grandmother myself, I can see this more clearly.

While I told her many times over the years, “I appreciate you and all that you do,” I’m not sure my words touched her to the degree that I’d hoped. I’m not even sure I fully grasped the depth and true meaning of that word “appreciation.” Then there were my misguided attempts to demonstrate appreciation, which fell flat or actually irritated her. Attempts that she had trouble accepting. After that trip abroad, along with my verbal and written thanks, I sent her flowers in appreciation. She chastised me for “wasting” money on something that would “just die.” We were residing on different planets. I was genuinely grateful and I believed flowers were a socially acceptable way of saying thank you. At the time, I scratched my head in consternation, but I now recognize that for someone who grew up during the depression, the gesture may have appeared frivolous.

Could I find the right words today, if I were given another chance to voice the depth of my gratitude for her sacrifices and unconditional love? Is it possible I now have a richer and deeper understanding of that word “appreciation?” Would she nod at me, sensing I’d at last developed a knowingness that was lacking in my younger self? Seems I had to travel further along life’s journey for that understanding, that wisdom, which evolves from living. It may simply be quite difficult or perhaps impossible to appreciate fully from the front end of life.

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