I woke up to a rainy day and breathed a sigh of relief. My eyes, tired of looking at sunshine, relaxed into the muted gray of the world and I slipped slowly from Sleep to Awake, pulling the cloudy softness of the day around me like an old, wooly blanket.
We headed off to school singing along to a song about making banana pancakes and playing hooky. "Ain't no need to go outside," I sang, even as we gathered up umbrellas and raincoats to do exactly that.
Last minute plans were made and broken and made once again and instead of spending the morning at home, we met some friends and played. I remembered that the cure to feeling isolated is to stop isolating yourself--a simple solution, but a difficult pattern to break.
Preschool pick-up included splashing in mud puddles, running across the lawn, balancing on wooden beams beside the sidewalk as we meandered back to the car, none of us particularly inclined to get out of the slight drizzle. Our voices stayed low as we related to each other the stories of our day.
A lazy lunchtime, interrupted by the reading of books and comparing of heights. They were quite surprised to find that I'm still the tallest of the bunch. A quiet time of rest, when we all got to do the things that renew us--knit, read, nap. When I tried to go into Luke's room at the end of two hours, he told me in no uncertain terms that he was still enjoying his "peaceful quiet time." Do you want me to stay and read with you, I asked. "I'm happy reading this book by myself. I know where I am in this book. I'm just waiting for you to leave before I start reading again." Right. Off I go then, back to my knitting, my rocking, my writing.
We headed off to school singing along to a song about making banana pancakes and playing hooky. "Ain't no need to go outside," I sang, even as we gathered up umbrellas and raincoats to do exactly that.
Last minute plans were made and broken and made once again and instead of spending the morning at home, we met some friends and played. I remembered that the cure to feeling isolated is to stop isolating yourself--a simple solution, but a difficult pattern to break.
Preschool pick-up included splashing in mud puddles, running across the lawn, balancing on wooden beams beside the sidewalk as we meandered back to the car, none of us particularly inclined to get out of the slight drizzle. Our voices stayed low as we related to each other the stories of our day.
A lazy lunchtime, interrupted by the reading of books and comparing of heights. They were quite surprised to find that I'm still the tallest of the bunch. A quiet time of rest, when we all got to do the things that renew us--knit, read, nap. When I tried to go into Luke's room at the end of two hours, he told me in no uncertain terms that he was still enjoying his "peaceful quiet time." Do you want me to stay and read with you, I asked. "I'm happy reading this book by myself. I know where I am in this book. I'm just waiting for you to leave before I start reading again." Right. Off I go then, back to my knitting, my rocking, my writing.
1 comment:
Awww how special! Love reading your work, my dear. :)
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