Today I drove. The title reveals some feelings of guilt on my part, yes. And then there sat Anne, in the back seat for our ride home, entirely engrossed in a new novel our librarian generously let her have the first read of: All the Broken Pieces. The book transported her; when we arrived home she emerged from the car entirely lost in the story. About this I feel, proud, happy, and extremely gratified. It makes each harrowing moment of listening to her decode her first "chapter books" worth every effort-filled second. Besides, I only drove after having left my sneakers at school on Monday. Yesterday was, well, full.
And yesterday morning I did walk to school. Fox-free, large-dog-free, startle-free walking felt meditative. It was the rest of the day that took off at lightening speed. At least I started out with good intentions.
Harold, again, saved my day. Upon remembering about meetings, lessons, and time-crunches, I called him in relative panic. Calmly, (OK, I just caught myself almost using the word "but") he picked me up on his way home from lunch, and then the wheels Anne and I needed carried us everywhere we'd committed to go. The morning walk did me good. My life partner helped me pick up the slack. And I fulfilled my commitments. Thank you, again, wonderful husband for your willing help!
Tomorrow we drive again, for dentist appointments after school. Maybe Anne's book will transport her to another time and place. I'll be concentrating on my breathing. After two days of driving I can feel the relative speed of life picking up. Thursday I walk. Friday, hmmmm. It's a new destination this year, and maybe I can walk there too. Have to give that one some thought.
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