The most ironic thing about our summer vacation thus far, is that it is seemingly impossible for me to sleep in.
Every morning this week, I have woken far earlier than I had during the school year. Perhaps without the pressure of lesson plans and schedules I don’t feel the need to bury my head in a pillow, or perhaps I simply don’t want to miss any of my vacation. I’m not sure, but I find myself looking forward to this early morning time I have to be alone with my thoughts.
As I stretch and rearrange my limbs on the sheets cooled from the morning breeze that drifts through the open window, I think about what needs to get done today and what should get done today. Then I decide what will actually get accomplished today.
I think about what’s for dinner tonight and where I want to go with my husband for our date this weekend.
I idly think about lesson plans for school in the fall, but without any stress or urgency. During the summer, covalent bonds and the causes of the Civil War don’t seem quite as intimidating or as pressing as they did last month.
I fondly think about my garden: about my gorgeous tomato plants with their tiny, yellow flowers and the small, round strawberries we’re harvesting this year. Strawberries so red and sweet that they seem to be a completely different fruit from the berries you find at the store.
I think about my children. I think about Eden pouring over her Harry Potter book with hunched shoulders as her lips silently mouth the words she’s reading. I think about Will listening to a basketball game on his radio, instead of going to sleep last night. I think about Trinity and the swim meet she’s nervous about on Saturday.
I think how privileged I am to be entrusted with such souls, such individuals.
I think about the book I am reading now and about the book I want to read next. I think about the book I could write someday if I ever decide that writing is more fun than reading.
My stomach rumbles and I think to myself that we’re completely out of frozen pancakes and waffles and bread. Breakfast pickings will be slim and I wonder if there’s one more emergency box of cereal left hidden away in the storage room. I mentally rearrange my schedule to include some time for baking today.
A not so gentle nudge from my cat’s nose causes me to think about petting felines, then thoughts lead to actions and soon enough there are two purring balls of gray fur snuggled up against me.
A car drives down the street and I can hear the neighbor’s garage door open. The chickens are muttering to themselves as they scratch the ground, looking for something to eat. Soon their grousing will become louder and louder and I will be forced to get up and feed them some treats. But not quite yet.
Not quite yet.
I have a few more moments to be still and think and ponder and dream with my eyes wide open.
A few more minutes to list all these blessings I have and a few more minutes to be grateful for them.