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By Kelly

Corey and I went for a walk after dinner tonight. The older kids were playing with friends in the neighborhood, laughing and riding bikes in the golden, evening twilight. So it was just me, my husband, our 20-month-old Teyla and the dog.

Corey and I chatted about Natalie’s first day of third grade and the possibility of the weather turning cooler later in the week. Teyla, puppy-like, shrieked with joy to be out of the house and ran circles between our legs. The dog pranced at the end of her leash, nose up, ears alert. You never know when a squirrel is going to pop out of a bush.

We walked to the end of our development to a place where the forest meets the city. The tree tops were gilded with sunshine. We let the dog off her leash for a few minutes, and let Teyla explore the wildflowers growing next to the road and the few yellow and orange leaves on the ground that have already fled their summer home.

It was all so ordinary. The smell of stir-fried garlic and onions lingered on my fingers, and Teyla stopped to study a bug crawling on the ground.

Yet, for just a moment, it wasn’t ordinary at all. I forgot all about Teyla’s short nap and the spilled milk before dinner and the hassle of putting away a weekend’s worth of toys in one morning.

Instead, I just was.

I was a wife. A mother. A woman who overflowed with gratitude for the beauty of everyday life.

I picked up my curly-headed daughter and tucked my hand into my husband’s arm and headed toward one of the best gifts I know – home.

Kelly can also be found blogging at Love Well.