To my disappointment, the day passed without a nap. It wasn’t for lack of trying, it just never materialized. I did lay down for half an hour, but sleep never came. It was still nice to be off my feet and close my eyes. The day was so nice regardless because it was always in the back of my mind to take it easy and be kind to myself. I can remember a time when getting by a few hours of sleep didn’t phase me; that time has passed.
The day was productive in the easy does it way a somewhat older woman whose been up since 2am manages things. It was nice actually because the entire time I had it in the back of my mind to keep it slow. Take my time. No pressure. I had to laugh because thirty five and forty year old me got up at 2am on purpose, routinely, because as a homeschool mom that is when I fit my (paid) work into the day. That feels so wild to me now. Fifty year old me would never. Rest is medicine. Once upon a time I was the person who always took the earliest appointment in the day: car repair, meeting, furnace cleaning, travel departure. I’m still a morning person and rise naturally with first light or sooner every day, I just place a lot more emphasis on the protection of those early hours. When possible, they are not to be rushed.
One of life’s great mysteries is the inability for older generations to effectively impress on the younger, how incredibly precious it all is.To feel it in their bones, as we do. Take care. Do less. Notice. This moment is all we have. Perhaps it’s a survival mechanism for the younger generation because they are often raising the tiniest generation, who are developmentally without a well-formed concept of time.
I rendered some tallow, canned twenty pints of chicken, finished the broth. Some other incidentals. Made a lovely, simple dinner of freshly dug baked potatoes and herbed honey butter chicken. The late afternoon light was so pretty in our western facing kitchen. It’s softening now, as it does this time of year.