I have five minutes to write, five minutes to breathe creativity into my day. But nothing enters my head or rests on my heart this morning. I listen for inspiration. I listen to the purr of the refrigerator and the heavy breathing of the furnace. My mind is a jumble of thoughts. There are dirty dishes piled high in the sink, beds unmade, and clothes needing to be washed. My desk is buried under running schedules and history books. I’m not even sure what is for dinner tonight.
I’m still thinking about this week’s unfinished lessons, only 8 more weeks of school. I panic, a little. There is still so much left I want to accomplish. We are studying force and motion right now and it makes me think about moving forward. It makes me think about pushing past obstacles. It makes me think about finding balance.
My legs are sore and achy from pushing myself to finally start running again. I have only completed two workouts this week, and yet it feels more like twenty.
Here is slow and steady, spitting rain speckles the windows. Luna sleeps soundly in her bean-bag chair, curled up in a ball so tight someone might mistake her for a furry pin cushion. The Hare will sleep for another two hours. She will have to be woken up, in fact, or she might sleep until noon. I am tempted to go back to bed too. I could work on incomplete chores, I could print and prep next week’s lessons or spend more time on the couple of volunteer things I need to finish, but I won’t. Instead I will have another cup of coffee, listen to the morning birds chirping and read.
Outside it is cold and damp here, and I miss my family living states away. I miss my mom. I miss being in school. I miss sunshine and flip-flops. I miss lunch outside, sipping freshly made Margaritas on the rocks, laughing with my friends. I miss the smell of Mountain Laurels and Magnolias.
And yet, in my heart, there is no question that here is still the only place I really want to be. Here is where my life resides. And it is a good one.