A few months ago, for the first time ever in my 16 years of life, I had a true “what a wonderful world” moment — a moment where I was truly able to enjoy the things around me. It took place during a midday walk with my grandpa.
Every time I visit my grandpa, or as I call him, Gong Gong, up in Torrance, CA, we walk through Charles H. Wilson Park together to get him a grande hot Americano at the nearby Starbucks. We always take the same route: first exiting his third-floor condo, taking the elevator down to the first floor, walking out of the building, taking a left into Wilson Park, and then heading straight forward along the concrete sidewalk until we reach the coffee shop.
That week, I had been pretty stressed. School work was piling up, my socializing energy bar was low, and I felt as though I had no time to do anything. However, as my grandpa and I made our usual stroll through the park, a wave of overwhelming peace washed over me; I felt like I could breathe.
I became more aware of the things going on around me, and everything felt surreal. I felt the breeze. I heard the gently rustling trees and the distant chatter of a family playing baseball in the park. And as I looked up, I saw the sun peeking through gaps in the surrounding buildings. The only words I could think of were “what a wonderful world,” and I couldn’t contain my smile. It felt like I was looking at a painted picture. I was at peace.
Amid an incredibly stressful week, it felt refreshing to take a look at my surroundings and breathe it all in. It also made me realize how little time I take to slow down and truly look at what’s around me.
I’ve come to recognize that as I’ve gotten older, I’ve completely stopped taking time to look at the small things as I become so hyper-fixed on the task at hand that I don’t take time to slow down, step back, and look around.
When I was younger, I remember finding it hard to take strolls with my grandma because I felt like she was walking so slowly. As we wandered around the park, I’d try to slow down to at least half of the speed I’d normally walk at to make sure we matched paces. My grandma, who recognized that she wasn’t the fastest walker and that I was an overly-hyper elementary student, would always thank me for taking the time to walk with her.
On our walks, she’d always point out the little things around us. Whether it was the birds hopping around, the flowers growing on the bushes, or how nice the shade of the trees felt after walking in the beating hot sun, she pointed details out to me with the most peaceful smile on her face. I, on the other hand, often focused on chasing after the squirrels that ran through the park, having reached my limit of slow walking.
Back then, I saw slowing myself down as a burden. Now, however, I find myself intentionally trying to walk slower to enjoy the moment and what’s around me — breathing in the air, watching the birds hopping and the flowers growing, feeling the shade of the trees after walking around in the beating hot sun, and doing all of this with the most peaceful smile on my face. What a wonderful world.
