I used to ride the bus to school (pure hell, by the way). I would look through the cloudy, scratched window and see the bright, sunny day on the other side that I could not touch. I was so depressed and so envious of the little old ladies who could walk in the mornings because they were retired. The new mothers whose children could ride along on tricycles and didn’t yet know the horrors that awaited them at school. I yearned to trade lives with them for even just one day. I dreaded going to school. All K-16 of it.
Then I had a job I had to go to every morning. Rain or shine or snow or sleet or dark of time change. On sunny days, I would see the old ladies working in their yards. I would see the father training his kids how to show their calves for 4-H. I was so depressed and so envious of them. Sure, I could take a walk outside on my break at work. The problem with that—after 15 minutes, I had to return to work.
I knew the money I made at my job helped to feed, clothe, and shelter my family. But it wasn’t challenging or fun. Spending the morning in the bright sunshine—early, when the nighttime bugs are going to bed and the daytime ones are just waking up, when the drops of dew sit on each blade of grass like a pearl, when the concrete is still cool to the touch from it’s nighttime slumber, when the faint haze is just burning off as the day slowly begins to heat up, like a crockpot full of soup—THAT sounded fun.
Today*, I knew the weather forecast was for an unseasonable 80 degrees. I knew if I waited until afternoon it would be too steamy hot. So I slapped my son into his stroller and we went for a walk. This morning. This beautiful, unseasonably warm morning. I enjoyed it. I felt refreshed.
Today, someone else got to drive by and be jealous of me:)
* Written on 3/21/12
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