I am sitting at my kitchen table right now. Outside, fat drops of rain are falling hard off the roof onto the porch. The drizzle today has been constant, and the world is a wet gray-and-green. Even as I sit, I am fighting the impulse to jump up and do something - anything - that would keep me from being still. I think, A cup of tea would be nice as I type and Oh, maybe I should just start a load of laundry so I can fold it later. I notice that my plants are drooping some and think I better water them. I look out the sliding glass door and fuss over the spots and streaks. I see that it's 4:39 and remember Ethan will be home soon, that I should start supper.
Something inside me, though, made me sit down here and look out at the rain. I've been wishing it would stop raining for weeks, it seems. I feel like I die a little more every dreary, mid-50 degree day. I want summer now. Maybe that's why I can't stop moving. Maybe it's like a day of waitressing; if you have lots of tables and busy yourself with running food and smiling at customers and cashing people out, you don't notice the time passing. All of a sudden, it's the end of your shift and you are left with a wad of cash and aching feet.
But... do I want to just be left with a wad of cash and aching feet? Is what I really want for the days of the school year to flash and finish and be just a memory, just a flurry of unceasing movement? I don't it is.
I think I am rushing towards summer because the moments now seem dull to me. I keep hoping that the summer will be full of sweet moments. I want it to be quiet when I want and loud when I want. I want long mornings and late nights and coffee on the deck and books on the beach. But then again, if my memory can be trusted to tell the truth (which it can't always), I remember writing just last fall that I was ready for a school routine and warm wool socks and bubbly Crockpots.
I think I need to be still tonight. I need to stop hurdling through one season to get to the next. I don't want to get through life with just achy feet to show for it at the end. We put up a bird feeder on our porch and since I've been here, looking through the glass, I've seen a chickadee, a woodpecker, and a cardinal. They chirped and picked away and scattered seed here, there, and everywhere. I can't read their minds, but they didn't seem too concerned about tomorrow. I think I'll sit and watch them for a while.