I’ve been trying hard to take notice of the simple joys of life. It’s so easy to get bogged down in this ‘woe is me’ narrative in which I find myself.

And it doesn’t take much to start actively noticing the beautiful things around you. Often it’s things we can see but there’s also taste, smell, sound and all the other sensations.

Recent examples include:

  • The first sip of a really good coffee Magro brings me in bed every morning. He gets up in the cold and puts ten minutes of love into every cup. It is the best possible way to start the day – a gift from someone you love.
  • The smell of eucalyptus oil. It’s sprayed on all the yoga equipment after use and it has a way of transporting me to everything wholesome from my childhood. It reminds me of when I had a cold and Mum tucked a folded tissue sprinkled with a couple of drops of eucalyptus oil up my sleeve.
  • The sun on your back when its winter.
  • The way that everyone I’ve met and chatted at my yoga classes, remembers and uses my name to welcome and greet me every time. It is a deliberate noticing of others and the use of their name that is the very first step in making people feel seen. It takes effort and intent and I really appreciate it.
  • Margaritas. At once both salty and sour. My two favourite flavours.

But this post is about Jedd. A truly beautiful person and a much beloved family member, Jedd has Down Syndrome and is on the autism spectrum. He lives with his Mum, Dad and sister and he is living his best life. The love in this house is evident in every routine, meal, space, and conversation. Jedd is included in every way possible and you can tell he feels the love. An example:

Jedd signs and has some limited speech which he uses to communicate the basics and express his love for others. But let’s just say, he isn’t quite able to engage with you in an extended conversation about your day. Yet, at his birthday dinner on Tuesday night, he stood and gave a speech. His hand was on his heart, his smile was deeply embedded on his face and in his own, mostly indecipherable way, he thanked every person sitting around the table, using their names. He told his family he loved them. He told us he was happy.

But he didn’t need to add that last bit. Because I swear I’ve never seen more pure a joy than on the face of Jedd as the lights dimmed and we began to sing Happy Birthday. As his vanilla cake with sprinkles icing was placed upon the table in front of him, Jedd smiled the smile of someone who needed nothing more in the whole world. This was the face of happiness. From a cake. And a song. And being surrounded by his family.

And there it was. I didn’t even need to look for it. This was a lesson in love and joy and the simplicity of both should we accept that it can be that easy. Looking on Jedd in that moment was a reminder that beauty is everywhere. EVERYWHERE.

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4 thoughts on “A post for Jedd

  1. That was super nice and I cried. It has been a helluva journey and the journey continues. Thanks a heap for writing that and by the way, and I knew this would not be lost on you but I had a helluva job cleaning up Jedd the next morning when he had a little (big) accident with bowel control. Gotta love irony!

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