Life has been going at break-neck speed again. Moments of respite are that much more important to me these days, because they seem few and far between. My daughter Alexis, and I, seem to rush from morning to night. This past Wednesday, I hurried to get her to child care, I rushed to my client appointment 2 hours away, I stopped by a friend’s clinic for lunch (which instead became a hello-hug-goodbye “I’ve got to run!” encounter,) and off to the next client visit I ran. As soon as my final appointment was done, I drove out of the congested cosmopolitan city, and found a path down the highway back home, in time to pick up my daughter for swimming lessons.
We arrived at the Stork family YMCA in Waterloo a few minutes early. Early? For the first time all day I didn’t have to rush anywhere. I hadn’t eaten all day, and my fuel tank was low. At 4:30pm I grabbed some “lunch.” My daughter and I headed out into the Y‘s open courtyard to enjoy a moment of peace, relaxation, and nourishment.
I am not a fan of an overly busy lifestyle. I am good being busy doing what I feel is important, but I don’t particularly enjoy being busy for busy-sake.
Time seems elusive. There are just as many hours in the day as there ever were, but the weeks feel as short as the weekends.
I am thankful for a moment of courtyard calm at the YMCA. A moment to breathe, take stock of the week, and watch my daughter play with the rocks on the ground by the foot of a sapling. In the future, I may look back on my time and, perhaps, the years will feel as though they have run away from me as fast as the weeks seem to now. I know the moments I stop to take a snapshot in my mind, like the one I captured in the YMCA courtyard, will stand out like the photographed memories stamped on the page of an album. I need this moment of respite to remember that I want my album to be full the day I turn my last page, and for that to happen, I need to have moments of calm so I can take a still shot.
I look at the clock. It’s 4:55. Click goes the shutter in my mental recorder. It’s time to run.
“We’ve got to go honey. It’s time for swimming lessons,” and off we race to change.
