My computer and I are never apart for long during the work week. I’m focused on completing my projects and strategizing the days ahead, and the hours whiz by. Five o’clock arrives, and I’m trying to “get just one more thing done” before signing off for the day and rushing to the kitchen to devour my dinner.
Whipping the kitchen back into order is followed by a jaunt outdoors to give my flowers a drink before heading to my home gym in the basement for a personal sweat fest. Some evenings I squeeze in a walk as the sun sets, my favorite time of the day. Other days, I pick and clean vegetables from my garden, or I clean the house inside or battle the weeds outside, or I catch up on personal emails and chat with my daughters on the phone.
This is how my weeks pass, day after day. I crawl into bed after my shower and read until my eyelids droop and the words blur, and then I click off my lamp and rest my head on my pillow, giving thanks for a good day.
This past week was particularly busy at work, and when my alarm sounded too early for a Saturday morning, I once again hit the floor running, knowing I had a list of about a dozen things I wanted to accomplish by noon, the time my parents, brothers and sister and their families were arriving for a summer get-together (since the pandemic took away our 2020 holiday gathering).
Altogether, 26 of us enjoyed mouth-watering burgers and loads of yummy salads and sides along with cold drinks in the backyard, seeking out the shadiest seats on a hot August day. The bean bag boards were in constant use, and giant Jenga provided good-natured screams and laughter as it loudly toppled from its stand when the wrong board was removed. We wrapped up the afternoon with cake and ice cream to celebrate my dad’s birthday.
When everyone departed, Greg and I put away the games and chairs and leftover food, cleaning and restoring order to our home until I could barely walk, my feet were so sore. I went to sleep tired and fulfilled.
Sunday morning consisted of a few light chores and a calming yoga practice. After lunch, Greg and I strapped down the kayaks and ventured to Lake Ripley in Cambridge. The lake is just the right size for a couple hours of paddling. We slowly lapped the lake, admiring the waterfront homes and observing the water skiers, tubers and jet skis as they crisscrossed the lake. A gentle breeze kept us comfortable, and if it weren’t for the boats, the water would have been nearly flat. We watched for fish swimming beneath us during an unhurried paddle on a quiet afternoon.
After a fast-paced week and action-packed Saturday, a slow-moving Sunday was exactly what I needed.