To Savor....

It’s morning time. That means my yeti cup is filled with Roast House coffee, and I’m topping off breakfast with a square of dark chocolate, which today, I decide to savor. 

I think about that word, savor, as I roll the chocolate morsel in my mouth letting the dark, bitter, sweet tastes meld together and melt on my tongue. I feel the square dissolve, get smaller with each turn and flip. I battle the urge to chew it.

The dictionary says to savor means to give oneself to the enjoyment of. 

I ponder how it’s still hard for me to slow down, how I fight the urge to flit to the next moment. Will the next moment be better? What does it promise that this moment doesn’t?

My sweet girl is teaching me to savor the moment. Big brown eyes search mine for why she doesn’t feel well. Why she has to keep going back to the vet to have another test. I walk the edge with her not knowing the answer. Only knowing I can be here now. Cup her head, stroke her back, sit with her tired body that isn’t cooperating.

The message so clear: Enjoy her now. The end is closing in; it is within sight. So, I sit with her, pet her head, lean into her 65-pound body of blond fur and hug her. She can feel me grieving ahead of time. She kisses my face, licks away the silent salty tears.

Yes, to savor. 
To give oneself fully to the moment. 
To slow down. 
To feel this moment, taste this chocolate square melt on your tongue. 
To not be ahead in the next moment, or the next or the next.

I roll the chocolate around in my mouth. It dissolves to about half its size and then I place it between my back molars and chew the rest.

To savor. 

It’s a practice.