The Special Hat

I felt my head nodding “no, no, no”—a visceral reaction—my body taking command of the situation before I even knew why.

When I looked down, there in my hand was a baby’s hand-knitted hat.

Not just any hat, mind you. This one is special.

It is special because it is aqua green and light blue, and was made especially for our son when he was born. Plus, it has a big pom-pom on top.

But none of these were the reasons I was nodding.

I was nodding because this hat is the first one my son wore happily, without complaint or tearing it off with his pudgy, newborn hands.

I was nodding because this hat is what he was wearing when he belly-laughed for the first time in his little life, a good hearty laugh with a glint in his eye as if he and I were sharing a private joke.

I was nodding because never in my life can I ever imagine parting with this very special little hat and all it represents (unlike some of the other things I discovered in the attic).

Some aspects of the past we can let go of easily and effortlessly, without thinking twice. Other “things” (or people, places or aspects of who we are) we struggle over a bit more—debating, clinging, until finally “right action” emerges.

And then there are those items in life like this hat. For these special ones, the choice comes to us, not through any choice of our own, but from some place deep within us, screaming and yelling and moving our bodies in such a way that we know the answer before we even have the chance to consider the question.

If you are ever curious what matters most to you, notice which way your head—or your heart, or whisper within—is nodding when you’re not even paying attention.

Then the choice will be simple. Then you’ll know for sure.