The small things

Back when I lived with my mom, whenever my mom got home, I let go of everything I had going on and greeted her at the door. If she had bags in her hands or was carrying anything, I got it of her hands. If she didn’t, I’d hug her and ask her about her day.

She did the same for me, most of the time. It depended on what she had going on, but at least she tried. As soon as the keys hit the door, we’d come to greet one another, at leas try to.

It’s something I miss immensely. Not that I don’t have someone to come home to, most nights I do. But there’s something very ceremonial in greeting one another at the door, at least for me.

I’ve had a knack for seeing those small things in other communities and relationships. I can see them in work-groups, families and in relationships quite easily. A friend of mine said “You really see those things that others don’t even think of picking up on.”.

But when it comes to those small things like greeting one another at the door, I oftentimes have a hard time acknowledge their importance to me, or even putting them in to words.

I’ve never told my girlfriend that I’d really appreciate it if she met me at the door, especially when I’m carrying stuff. I’ve never told my mom that I really appreciated it when she did it for me.

It’s strange really, because I know it’d make them happy to be able to make me happy by those small gestures. And I also know that they might not notice, or if they did, know the actions are important to me.