I’m sitting in my reading chair by the window, evening light traipsing across the glass and then spilling across the floor.
I’d wanted to go running today, but resisted the urge. It’s deceptively blustery, and the pine boughs are rattling despite today’s completely clear sky. This is supposed to be a rest day, anyway. And I’m strict with myself because I have to be, otherwise I’d overdo it and end up hurt. Which I’ve definitely done before.
So, having planted myself pointedly in this chair, Theo Of Golden lay open on my lap as I attempt to focus on reading. I’d grumbled to myself at first, but it eventually worked.
This far up north, it’s too early in the season for the other trees to have leaves on their branches, but they shimmy and shake all the same, too. On this side of the window, however, stillness prevails. I glance to my left and swell with satisfaction at the newly sprouting spikes of my orchid. Crossing my left foot over my right ankle seems to release a gust of breath I didn’t know I’d been holding somewhere in my shoulders.
That orchid hasn’t bloomed in almost two years.
Inspecting the roots within the clear pot as I normally do, I’m happy about how resilient they are—how much they’ve grown. Two new layers of leaves have grown in, which means this one’s due for a new flower spike. I love that about orchids. Their strength is in their root systems, and they can thrive in the right conditions even when not producing their signature moth-like pedals.
Outside I can hear the echoes from a game of Marco Polo being played by kids in the neighborhood. I've only ever played that in a pool. When I was a kid, we played manhunt in the neighborhood; which I guess is sort of a version of the same thing. Either way, these kids sound so... happy. Whereas, what I'm feeling is irritable, and I'm suddenly aware of just how much that doesn't match my surroundings.
Turning back to my book, I’m ready to admit I’m exhausted.
I want to smile at that, but I don’t. It doesn’t come, and so I don’t force it. I wish I could tell you that I opened my notebook and wrote I quick list of dot points outlining the stuff I did today—the progress I made, the items checked off my to-do list, and the many ways I’m giving myself grace during a stressful time. But I didn’t.
I read.
Then I walked. I ate and rested. And I plan on getting a really good night’s sleep.
Our Daily MAP Year Prompt
221/365
Do you listen to the stories you tell yourself when you're tired? Have you tried ignoring them?
onward.
For more on this daily column and The MAP Year Project, read the backstory.
Sign up to get it here.