Uncommon Curiosity

So…well, it’s no secret I’ve had a rough time of it lately.  Guilt, grief, fear and plain-old sadness have nearly overwhelmed me.  Of course I’m seeing a therapist, and she’s very good, but talking to her doesn’t change my reality, or change how hard it is to live through it.

And so it was phenomenally perfect timing that I’d get to spend this week on the coast with my kids.  I love the overcast, grey skies, the cold, damp air, and the sand between my toes as I watch waves crash onto the beach.  I found a local Peet’s where I can sit with my laptop and chat to my heart’s content with Kyle and Casey for the cost of an iced chai and scone.  I walked around downtown, snapping pictures of flowers and buildings and art, soaking in the beauty and simplicity.  After a summer of 24/7 parenting, it was bliss to have a few hours to myself with no one tugging at my attention.  Casey and I spoke on the phone for an hour about inspiration and love, and I laughed without worrying who might overhear.  I read – pages and pages – without interruption.  I got to pet a lot of goats.  And, yeah, this was all on Monday, between 10 and 2.  I swear, give a mom a moment to spare and she can build an empire.

And Tuesday was even better.

Nothing really changed, of course, except that I got a moment to breathe.  An hour to remember what I’m like when weasels aren’t pulling me in fourteen different directions at once.  A day to see the world around me…in silence.

Soon enough we’ll come back to the house and deal with the dishes and the laundry and the bits of marriage left lying around.  I’ll mow the lawn and work out how to start up the grill and read bedtime stories and tuck weasels in.  I’ll get ready for a new school year for them and for me.

But for now I have salt and sand and cold that seeps into my bones

just the way I love it.