Each morning I make angels in bed with my arms as though I might be lying in snow. My feet follow a concave path along the mattress in rhythm with my arms, splayed out by my side.
I wake and stretch like a cat; roll my shoulders back and lengthen my spine. I twist myself over, waking up my body, before being enveloped in ten-year-old morning snuggles.
I swing my legs out of bed, wiggle toes into my house slippers, and make my way towards the kitchen.
I light a candle. Fill the coffee machine with water and grind the beans. Straighten the lounge cushions mysteriously gone awry since bed time. Take stock of the litres of milk left, and resist the temptation to open the Woolies app to add milk to my (ever) running list. I’ll think of it later (I hope).
With a warm mug in one hand and a book tucked under my arm, I quietly unlatch the back door and slowly slide it open, hoping to sneak out alone while teenagers slumber.
The heat of the summer sun strikes early, inspiring me to be up and out with the hose before it’s too warm and I risk the leaves burning up if they’re still damp. On some days I wake to summer rain, and the sound of it beckons me outside still— droplets dancing on the tin roof, a favourite soundtrack bringing welcome relief from the bright cicadas that seem to gleefully interrupt my reading on dry days.
It’s a small rhythm, but a lovely one. Turns out it doesn’t take me long at the start of my summer pause to find a rhythm in the beginning of my day: moving, coffee, books, watering my garden. One week in and my daughter tells me she’s noticed the shift in me. I am more peaceful, more at ease. I am struck both by its truth and it being already obvious to anyone but me.
Of course it’s been anything but quick— a needed season of rest after many, many months of work and transformation, the kind that is neither painless nor quick. Even now I know I am emerging, it still doesn’t seem to have that trademark butterfly beauty to it.
I have spent the summer planting my two feet solidly in my own physical space. Fleshing out rhythms with my body, in my mind and heart. I am fully alive within myself for the first time in what feels like forever, and I’m ready for more of this.
Here’s to noticing—
Emma