Wednesday, October 7, 2015

An Afternoon Reflective Siesta

The past few afternoons, I've given myself permission to close my eyes and take a nap.

I curl up in what our family fondly refers to as the "reading chair" with a cream colored afghan, a breeze blowing through the window, a bright orange cup of tea and I...fall asleep. And, it's bliss.

When I was studying abroad in undergrad, I remember thinking how crazy it was that every afternoon, banks, businesses, cafes and open air markets all shut down in honor of the roughly 1-3pm siesta.  But they did.  And so, we too were forced to follow suit.

We let our bodies just slow down.

And this is what's happening to's what does happen to me.  As fall makes its face known with changing leaves and cooler temperatures, shorter days and plants that slowly die, it's a good reminder to gradually choose a different that welcomes the seasons and honors the cycles of life.

While I was slumbering the afternoon away yesterday, I had this vision of my children grown calling each other to secure details about returning home for the holidays.  I remember feeling happy that they were close as adults and that they were excited to return back to where it all started. 

And then, I started counting.  Sam will be 11 in a few months which means only 7 years left before he heads off to college.  Kate is 8...a decade more for her.  And Claire is turning 13 more years and they will all be gone.  Is that possible?  Do you ever play this game with yourself?

At that point, I will be 53.  I can't even imagine what that will feel like or what I'll be doing or if I'll have an opportunity to take a blissful afternoon siesta.  Will I still be writing, running, reading, teaching?  Maybe I'll be in Tuscany taking a real siesta in a foreign land.  Either way, at that point, I will not be the only children will be as well.  Maybe they too will be writers, runners, teachers.

Regardless of who any of us are at that point in time, I hope I will always remember these serene moments of one blanket, one cup of Chamomile and three hearts beating outside of my own that feel very much just like mine all wrapped up in the changing of the seasons.

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