Just a quick word this afternoon, sharing a much-loved tradition of taking the extra hour given us by the time change to do something rejuvenating. Preferably something you rarely carve out time for.
As Aimée emptied a kitchen cabinet, tore up two magazine pages and tried to catch Lucy's tongue, I surrendered to the magic of words. Something about reading feeds my soul, particularly when the time is divided between genres. Coming away centered and calm I must ask myself why don't I do this more often? Wouldn't I be a more present mother? Wouldn't I listen and observe rather than rushing along, if I regularly slowed down enough to read and think for a solid hour?
The first thought that will doubtless come to most minds when I ask these questions is "That's great for you, but I don't have time to sit down and read for ten minutes, much less an hour!" Perhaps you don't right now, but as years pass and I examine my own life more closely it becomes clearer that I make time for what is most important to me. Perhaps you can relate? With determination and a little creative planning so much is possible that doesn't seem likely at first glance. The question becomes: how much do I want this?
