Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?

Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? Every, every minute?

That's the question in the play "Our Town," when Emily, a young mother who has just died in childbirth, is given the opportunity to go back to life for just one day. She chooses her 12th birthday. And she watches as her family is preoccupied with trivial stuff, too busy to even really pay attention to each other. Emily says to her mother (although her mother cannot hear Emily's spirit) "Just for a moment we're happy. Let's look at one another..."

I think the answer that Emily got in the play was that perhaps poets are the only ones who realize life (and, in my words, see the eternity, the goldenness, in normal moments).

Yesterday, Amalia and I went to the urgent care place, to see the doctor who had originally sent her to the hospital for tests, and he is a wonderful guy. Dr. Morris Mesler, I think. Old and friendly and willing to answer questions. We should have gone back to him in the first place, but the hospital nurses had told Amalia to see the doctor who saw her in the hospital. Anyway, he looked at her lab results, explained them (all is well), checked her out, and said "I told your husband on the phone that you didn't need to come out here, but if you heard how she was sounding, I don't blame you a bit for getting on a plane." He even gave her a hug as we were leaving. He explained that she would be weak and tired for a few days, and that was normal-- that being sick like that burns thousands of calories. He told her to drink gatorade and take vitamins and rest.

So, it was a beautiful day, she was feeling so much better, and we drove around a little, looking at some beautiful houses in Larchmont, Beverly Hills. We drove over to Westwood Village, by UCLA's campus, and had ice cream at a little place -- they sell a two-cookie ice cream sandwich for a dollar!

I took her to Target and bought her some stuff. Then, we came home and took naps, then later we ate more vegetable soup and watched a DVD. We talked to Jordie and Abby and my mom on the phone. Adam had called earlier. I left a message for my sister. Amalia's boss at Starbucks told her to only come back to work Monday if she feels up to it -- that they miss her a lot, but she shouldn't push it. (I feel like sending a present to that wonderful woman.)

I am filled with a sense of really appreciating that afternoon yesterday. A sense that I really do understand just how wonderful a normal, trivial day really is. Driving around in the sunshine, eating ice cream, watching a DVD. Talking to our family.

Maybe I can really focus, in the future, on really looking at the people in my life, and, as Emily says, realizing life while I live it. I think I have said this before. I may have even written it before in an earlier post on this blog. But when will I GET it?

I woke this morning with a sense of profound gratitude. That's a start.