"Wishing and hoping and thinking and praying, planning and dreaming"
I look at our calendar--nearly black from practices, classes, appointments and games written in, and I find myself wanting more emptiness. Getting used to new schedules and routines feels a bit like wearing my socks backwards or having a twist in my pajama bottoms at night. It's an unfriendly, albeit benign, pressure and makes me uncomfortable and crabby.
I want empty days void of commitment so I can putter around the yard or linger with the kids in the sandbox and not worry about being late for T-Ball practice. I want to eat dinner when we're hungry, not 45 minutes and no later before they have to get to soccer/karate/back home again to finish homework. I want a wide open day to tackle big projects because squashing some jobs into the space of 2 hours just isn't enough time to get anything effective accomplished.
I want empty space void of clutter, piles of papers and forms, toy parts and scattered clothing. My eyes need a rest and so does my body. I'm weary of picking up and putting away and turning around to repeat the process. I don't need another "project" brought home in a backpack or another book to read or another fun activity in which to engage. I don't need another pair of shoes, another new recipe or another option for my children's enrichment this summer. I don't want another social engagement--dinner, brunch or lunch and I sure as heck don't want to shop for new shoes for Mr. T since it's almost summer and he can just go barefoot or wear sandals can't it wait?
What I really want right now is less--and I'm frantically tying up loose ends, prodding and poking and pulling and pleading people to do their share of things around here. I have another 10 boxes for the thrift shop, 3 projects on the cusp of completion, 1 activity off our schedule tonight. It's a start. We'll spend Mother's Day cleaning out the garage, reassembling the swingset and setting out the Aunt Till's plants. I won't even go to the greenhouse as is my tradition because I can't face 4 flats of annuals just now--no matter how charming pansies look in a terra cotta pot on my front porch. I can't undertake the potting and watering and they'd die if left in my care.
"True affluence is not needing anything."--Gary Snyder
Today I consider myself one of the wealthiest people on the planet.