360 Degrees from Perfection

Monday evening we had lovely weather. I was lying in the hammock in the backyard feeling worn out from the day. The hammock cradled me, and I was still, except for nudges from Arlo rubbing his back against the bottom of the hammock - he's such a cheap thrill kind of dog. Jim was in a lawn chair near my head. Willa was on his lap. They were in deep conversation, peppered with giggles.

In the middle of a yawn, I craned my neck to look at them. The beauty made me gasp and I spent a minute trying to memorize the scene. This is what I saw, framed by my purple hammock cocoon:

The sky was a perfect summer blue with puffy white clouds. Against that was the lively green of our gigantic maple tree's leaves. And then Jim's red and white checked shirt. Dark red that jumped up and down when he laughed. And then Willa's bare feet and small toes, dancing on the air. All those layers of colors, and life, and sweetness.

I am not foolish enough to think we ought to capture perfection. There are often too many dishes in the sink, too many projects piling up, too many books on the "to read" list. We sometimes have to throw away produce that we had every intention of eating. I will always have at least one zit somewhere and Jim will probably continue to leave his shoes... everywhere. Perfection is a quest that makes you forget the scenery along the way, I think. That minute we were exactly 360 degrees from perfection - which, for you folks who aren't geometry nuts, puts us right back at perfection.