Finally, a day of rest. A day to curl up in an overstuffed arm chair with a bestselling novel, a cup of coffee and lounge lazily while the wind blows the rain against the windows. No brilliant sun to energize or motivate to action, just the quiet of springtime rains.
That’s what I did on Sunday. I read a novel. I didn’t read a work of science or essays or commentary or history. I read a novel. I didn’t spend much time cooking or cleaning or doing laundry. I read, munched, napped and read some more. It was so incredibly refreshing.
It was like drinking ice cold pristine water from an artesian well on a hot humid August day in the South.
It even reminded me a little of my youth, when I would spend a solid day wrapped up in a book, disbelief completely suspended as a reveled in a world not my own and interacted with a completely different set of people. With traveling to Atlanta for a wedding last week, and a work schedule that has left me tethered to my desk most days, and a five-year-old who goes like the Energizer® bunny, I needed desperately to refill my well.
Finally, on Sunday I rested. We rested. My husband finished a little touch-up painting on the house, my daughter lazed the day away, playing cards, planting a cactus garden for Grandma’s Mother’s Day present. I finished up the little bit of laundry remaining from my marathon laundry session on Saturday (where does all the dirty laundry come from anyway)? But other than that, we rested.
We had nowhere that we had to go. We had nothing on our agenda—even our daughter’s bath had been completed in the whirlwind of activity on Saturday.
In the evening, while my husband and daughter watched Megamind, I took a walk in the coolness of the just passed spring rains and listened to the frogs calling from the roadside wetlands. The robins, goldfinches, house finches and chickadees were all singing springtime songs and playing in the puddles, and the air was fresh and crisp.
I could look forward to an uneventful bedtime of stories and hugs and kisses.
We live in a harried and hassled world, and I for one like to be busy and connected, most of the time. But it’s really important to know how to disengage and unwind and refill the well that supplies all of the energy that makes it possible.
I escaped into a novel, spent time with my family, and spent time with myself and the outdoors. I was quiet.
Being quiet isn’t easy.
But it’s oh so refreshing, and it makes the future seem so doable.
© 2012 Michele Arduengo. All rights reserved.