For years I dreamed of a Sunday. The kind of Sunday that isn't rushed. A Sunday that is full of definite plans but not written in stone. The kind of Sunday that is full of sunlight and a reasonable cool breeze. A Sunday where I am not worried, bored, tired or spun out on life. I am not sure I remember the last time I had a Sunday of that caliber.
I did yesterday.
For about 8 hours my parents were good enough to watch Thurston, and for a while, I was simply me. Not Mama. Not Responsible Worker. Not the person who allows herself to put so many things before her own happiness. Magically, I did not feel guilt/pain/shame for thinking of myself first. I did not feel the need to have to check for texts, facebook or phone calls. I had no need. Felt quite full filled. I knew I was missing nothing, as everything that was to be most important, I was already there for.
I was in the moment. I was with a friend and felt as if he wanted to be there laughing with me too. I was there listening and laughing with him instead of listening to the usual battle of insecurities and venom that go at it in my head. There was no rushing anyplace or rushing through any conversation. Even the occasional silence was not rushed.
This might have been one of those rare moments for me when I just was. I was in the moment. I was mindful. I had no place else I wanted to be. I was not thinking 10 steps ahead. Trying to figure out other plans. If anything good like this might happen again. Only once did I make mention of Monday, and he reminded me that I could deal with Monday then. I was grateful for the gentle reminder.
There were even some fears that tried to creep in at one point, but i kept them at bay.
I told them that they too needed a rest.
My Sunday blew me away. I didn't think those kind of days were available to me anymore. I need to remember I choose to carry around the intense sense of responsibility that I do. I need to remember I can put that rucksack down from time to time and I will be better for it.