Space

The kids went back to school this week: to middle school, fifth grade, and second. It was funny, the way they adjusted to the bulkiness of their backpacks; with super tweaked senses of space, they bumped into each other like those colorful balls in the Fisher Price popper.

While my three bouncing babies learned class rules and met a few friends and tried to accommodate their new dimensions, I was intending to fill my empty hours with household duties that had backed up over the last, oh, since June 7.

Instead, I listened to my own kind of music and read my own kind of stuff and ate my own kind of food. I opened my course syllabus file with a serious shot at rewriting it, but closed it immediately. Then I went to breakfast.

I should have cleaned. I should have queried. I should have written, or revised, or something.

But it was delicious, this freedom: an open abyss of time and possibility. Which I did absolutely nothing with. And am so looking forward to doing again all of next week.