Inhale the Roses

Another piece on time. And how we deal with it and what we do with it. (Perhaps the same thing?)

When I read an essay by Julie Fingersh from Substack in which she talks about how her parents never relented in their work ethics, I could relate. My mother worked diligently while I was in school and she attended college to receive her master’s degree, on top of being a first-grade teacher. I rarely saw her during the week and only in the late afternoons and evenings. I imagine she napped on the living room couch in the afternoons because she was exhausted, although she didn’t vocalize that to me. I felt like an orphan, with my father working during the day as well and my two brothers out of the house. It was a lonely time for me.

Years later, my mother let down her guard.

My point is that their work ethic transferred to me, creating the feeling of having to deal with lists of being successful in things and shituations every day. If I want to sleep in, I convince myself it’s okay and give myself permission.

Yet—and this is a big yet—I also know that when I’m on my deathbed, I won’t be thinking about what the HOA thinks about and places its big brother thoughts on my backyard garden. Thoughts of my family, my daughter, son-in-law and two grandsons, will be in my mind and heart because I know they are who (what) is important in life.

I make time for family (my daughter and I are close and spend hours talking on the phone).

I create time to make and dish up healthy meals and imbibe them with joy.

I answer calls from friends who want companionship and sometimes harvested wisdom.

I share meals with neighbors I like and enjoy a reciprocal relationship.

I tend to my garden each morning and evening.

My dog is blessed with ball play most mornings and evenings.

These life lessons can feel intense, yet when we break free from them, everything changes: our bodies, minds and most assuredly, our lives.

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