I am frozen. Stuck in the routines, and happy about it. My life is pure chaos but it's predictably chaotic. Today is one of those rare days when I go at a turtle's pace, and the contrast to my usual speed is a bit jarring if not confusing.
It gives me a moment to pause, to think, to reflect and to dream. These are luxuries, no? These days, they are luxuries. When my kids were babies, I fought for my fair share of "me" time. Now, I am almost resigned to just being grateful for the small crumbs that get thrown my way, those morsels of myself I am allowed to have. And this is not at all to sound ungrateful, it's merely a case of blissful acceptance. Somehow, it's more than enough.
I have found a inner peace in vacuuming the house and picking up their clothing, strewn about. I choose my battles wisely, giving them the responsibilities they can manage. And in another year or two, I will come unglued and push them even harder. But for now, we've found a rhythm that works, me in caring for them and them in being cared for. It's a relationship that is -- for now -- balanced, and I can absolutely appreciate the beauty in that.
So what's the point, then, you ask? Well, there isn't one. Sometimes life is neither exciting nor dramatic nor eventful. Sometimes it's just winter. It's cold, and you store all your energy for later. You huddle together in the warmest room of the house and watch each other breathe.
And it's good.
hibernations? of all sorts...
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