Just when you think the mundane of your life couldn’t get any worse, you take a step back and realize that mundane is your life.
The poetry in The Mundane helps us see that those little moments are the stepping stones to a beautiful life. The very strokes to a masterpiece. The experiences we forget about, or don’t appreciate, are the tiny rituals we all wish eventually we could go back and live again. The simple day to day rhythms that are often overlooked, are the blocks that keep our foundation strong.
the mundane
If only there was a way to stop, and look closely at these slivers of time with a different perspective, we could all find a way to thrive in the mundane. These poems are Melissa Elder looking back on her slivers.
who is this book for?
Every mother, father, parent who is drowning from the day-to-day monotony of daily rituals, rhythms and routines. A chance for us to stop and really look at a moment, despite how boring or mundane it really is, and find the beauty. For us to take a step back and appreciate the daily strokes that lead to our masterpiece of a life. No matter how uninteresting, messy or ugly the strokes appear, the painter’s palette is always a work of art. The evidence of something beautiful taking shape. Which is the cover of my book. A genuine painter’s palette. Proof that a piece of art is underway.
sneak peek
it goes fast
"It goes by so fast", they always seem to say. "Savor every minute!" While they go on their merry way.
Back to their homes, so quiet and so clean. No dishes in the sink no toddlers to be seen.
I just stand there, with my kids running wild. Exhaustion in my bones, holding a screaming child.
"But I'm so tired!!" I want to yell at them. "You just can't remember what it was like back then."
The bags under my eyes start to hang so deep. I haven't brushed my hair and I haven't brushed my teeth.
Will this ever end? The constant sleepless nights? Endless dirty diapers or the sibling screams and fights?
And then right there, as I'm knee deep in stress, I hear my daughter ask with flowers on her dress.
“Can I help you mom, with anything you need?" Her face so warm and kind in her voice I hear the plead.
It stops me in my tracks, I can't help but sit and stare. "When did she grow up? When did she start to care?"
And that's when I realize that time does go by fast. How do I savor this moment? How do I make it last?
I stop everything I'm doing and get down on one knee. I hold her close to my chest, And let myself just be.
I'll savor this minute. I'll smell her hair. I'll study her features. I'll hold her so near.