Seeing Beauty Around Me

The other day around 5 a.m., I drew the blinds and sat in my favorite lazy boy. Borah, Trey's 26-pound Maine coon, practically apparated onto the arm of the chair and stared out the window. And so, as I drank my homemade peppermint mocha, Borah and I stayed there for the longest time, just watching and waiting.

The wind picked up; leaves scurried over rocks; and a fallen branch twirled, somersaulting across the driveway. That's when Borah's ears slid back with concentration. He looked from me to the edge of the yard, and as I followed his gaze, my heart stopped. The most beautiful buck I've ever seen stood clothed in moonlight, fur gently combed by the wind, and massive antlers stretching toward heaven. 

He turned toward us, studying both me and Borah as if judging our souls. Although I couldn't pull my gaze from his, I lost hold of the moment and suddenly remembered something from the past.

 

We bought our house in 2015, and on the first night, Sky and I were so excited that we popped popcorn, turned out the lights, and watched nature out the front window. We whispered with excitement and could hardly believe it when we counted 28 deer that came into our yard that night!

 

"This is the best moment of my life," Sky squealed at one point. "I'm so happy we moved to Idaho."

 

I hugged her. "Me too." So much had changed. I'd been a single mom with four young kids, and going it alone had been tough yet gratifying. Then, I ended up meeting the most wonderful man, and after dating a couple of years, we got married and moved the kids from Utah to Idaho. Looking back, sometimes I think my life really started when I moved here.

 

Anyway, as I watched the buck, I thought about my years in this house, how I'd been so grounded at first, focusing on all the right things. Then, I got my dream job, managing an entire newspaper. But somehow... between balancing spreadsheets, hiring and firing, writing, editing, and paginating, I somehow lost myself and became the Scrooge of the modern world. Life was about work and earning money, college degrees, and breaking news. I no longer had time to eat popcorn and stare out the front window, watching nature with my children... Then COVID came. The newspaper went under, and we all had to find new jobs. It was only a few months later that doctors diagnosed me with terminal cancer.

 

Everything crashed down: my expectations, self-imposed goals, and even how I saw myself. But from those ashes, something wonderful reawakened. One morning, I stayed huddled in a blanket, trying to warm my skinny body after cancer treatments. I'd been throwing up, worried I'd wake Mike or the kids. So, I stayed in the front room, trying to gather my thoughts. I opened the blinds, gazed out the window, and saw 5 deer that night. It hit me how close they walked to my bedroom. How ironic that such magic was so near every night, but I'd had no idea, too focused on menial things.

 

After that, if I hurt too badly at night or struggled emotionally, I started looking for animals. 

As months passed, I didn't just find beauty in my front yard, I saw it everywhere. And through it all, I became a better mother, wife, friend, sister, and daughter. How strange it took hardship for me to slow down and see the beauty around me. I'd been chasing so many things, trying to prove my worth to my parents and even my creator. I wanted to earn their love by writing books and getting promotions, but I'd missed the point. Life should be about relationships, building each other up, and ensuring people feel valued and loved.

 

Some days, I can get fixated on this diagnosis. It's easy to feel trapped and even scared if I think about the "what-ifs" too much. But other times—the vast majority—I've begun living: seeing the good. Even when I feel worse than normal, the kids enchant me; Mike seems like a miracle, and the deer in our yard… they're waiting at night, if I'm just willing to look for the magic around me.

 

My thoughts turned back to the present. The buck dipped his head down as if nodding with approval, then turned and bounded from our yard. I'm not sure if I've ever locked eyes with an animal that long—not ever—but it felt truly surreal. After the buck was far from sight, Borah curled up and fell asleep, probably dreaming about a huge deer hunt. As I snuggled into my perfect blue chair, I thought about how lucky I am to still be alive.