This Texas air fills my lungs. It's not pure like the air out in the Bush in Uganda. That air is like sweet oxygen candy. This air is a little warm, maybe some carcinogens and it's a little thick.
I'm trying to rest. To do the thing that I used to take for granted. Just moments ago, my daughter intentionally threw herself violently onto the floor. She kicked her feet into a wild toddler fury and arched her back with a scream.
Why? What on earth could possibly induce such a reaction?
Oh you know. Something major. Like... the denial of a piece of gum. Or... the fact that she ate the rest of her granola bar.
Major earth-shattering, life-changing things.
Settling back into normal life takes some adjusting after being "on the road" for a month. I find myself waking up, mumbling something like:
whoa, hello routine. nice of you to try and barge in on this day.
you're rude, barreling into my morning, clanging your bells, whistles and vacuums until i rise to meet you.
can't you see i'm trying to rest? can't we put off the (dishes, cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping, cooking, baking, bill-paying, phone calls, work, relationships) until another time?
well, i hope you can find something to keep you busy until the mid-morning. because i'm ignoring you and going back to bed.
But life doesn't work that way. It keeps rolling. The ship is sailing, and we are on board, raising sails to catch the wind. Catch the air. Fresh or not, it's there.
So I sigh. I'm waving at you. Ready for the next chapter?