You worked so hard today. You gave it your all.
Every minute lived fully. Every hour tossed around in your head like a dryer.
And you might have cried.
And got angry.
Oh you got so angry.
And tears of regret dropped here and there.
You brushed all that aside and went here, traveled there, talked to this person and that person.
Put things in their places, including the stuffed animals, the crayons, the sweater you’ve picked up and put back at least a hundred times, maybe a million. Or, was it a trillion?
And you stare at the clouds. And you understand what it’s like to be small. And you realize that there is another way, a more gentle and easy way.
And you soften a bit.
Then you soften more.
And even more.
And it occurs to you that living fully isn’t about being right or on time or tidy. And it dawns on you that the only thing that should dawn on you is spending more time outside under the stars and the moon and with your feet in the grass. And it suddenly makes sense that to live isn’t about having or doing or needing or being right.
Or being right.
It’s just simply about being right here. Taking time to breathe. Taking a moment to realize that you are not at all perfect and neither is anyone else around you.