The rhythm of my days is vastly different now than it was mere months ago. All my days are “no alarm” days-days I used to celebrate with childlike giddiness. My body still wakes by 7 ish, (earlier if Mama calls to sing to me) my brain follows eventually. I’ve developed this weird ritual of sitting on the stairs for a few, some, many moments. I’ve equated it to idling the car in the parking lot or the driveway. Transition time I guess. I slept hard last night. Deep. I’m not sure I moved at all. My stair time was long this morning. Avoidance? Maybe… as I did contemplate skipping my walk. I almost tossed a coin. I did not as the coins were several steps down and across the kitchen. My tendency to give up on myself was quieted. Instead of my feet hitting the kitchen floor and hands fumbling with coffee pods and cups and such, they took me back upstairs. Costume choice matters. Cute dress? comfy shorts and tee? Nope. I walked leisurely. I paused in a favorite quiet spot and allowed myself to miss the old rhythm of my days; allowed myself moments to miss people and hugs and “cheers” and dancing. I allowed myself moments to appreciate the new rhythm of my days; to appreciate Mama’s wake up calls before I really want to wake up; to appreciate the lack of urgency; to appreciate the renewed and restored connections- to people as well as to parts of myself. I enjoyed the quiet. Then I remembered that costume choice matters and I pounded up my favorite hill- twice.
