It’s late. I should be in bed, because Tuesday mornings are busy.  I don’t have to get up in the dark and fumble through my house trying not to wake the slumbering and disturb the peacefulness. I don’t have to drive to the gym at 5:45 AM, sleep walk through my lower or upper body routine and jump in the shower. I don’t have to rush home and wake grumpy teens or ten year olds and rush them out the door. I don’t have to stop and start and clutch my steering wheel through rush hour traffic. I don’t have to race up the steps, breathless, crossing off things on my mental to- do list as I drink a cup of Chai and start teaching.

I am retired.

And yet…when the first rays of sun peek through my window, I’ll climb out of bed, thinking of all I have to do before 9:30 gymnastics class with Sophie, my granddaughter. We have a special trip to the zoo planned, too. I need to pack the cooler, and the books we need to return to the library. Put dinner in the crockpot. I need to reboot the laundry and swish and swipe the bathroom.  I need to stop at the credit union, call the…..stop!

I need to remind myself I’m retired. And, it’s not a long weekend or a spring break or weeks of summer. It’s for a very long time. It’s not that it’s not busy. It’s very busy. But, maybe, just maybe, what I need to do is s-l-o-w down. I’m on toddler time these days. It’s not linear. It’s not even circular. It’s more like we zig- zag through the day with spots of learning tucked into cuddling, walking, grocery shopping, finger painting, playing, and reading.

It’s late, but, what the heck. I’m retired.

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