I took time today to slow down.
I don’t, not always. Even on days when I am free to keep my own schedule, I go from one piece of work to the other.
I finish one thing and move on to the next.
I don’t sit.
I don’t stop.
It’s my nature, I think—in a lot of ways, I’m like my mother, but in this way, I’m like The Old Farmer. He was never still, at least not for long, and when he was, he fell asleep.
I do too.
I sit, I sleep.
But today, even though I had a couple of obligations to keep, I took time to slow down.
I took time to sit on the deck in the early morning chill. I wore a jacket, and I curved my hands all the way around the big hand-thrown pottery mug my Youngest Baby Girl gave me for Christmas last year. The warm stone felt good on my hands. Coffee is better, I think, in open air in fall.
I took time to watch Lady Bacon roll in the cut grass in the sunshine. I’m still grateful to have her with us—it scares me to think how close we were to losing her. So I stood there a few extra minutes and watched her scratch her back and savor the sun.
I took time to wander through the grocery store, up and down every aisle, instead of grabbing what I needed and getting out quickly. I had a nice conversation with Mrs. Gladys when I checked out, just because I could. And when I walked outdoors I stopped, because the sun was setting west of me, and sunset was perfect.
I took time before I left to watch two dogs in the pickup truck next to me. They were waiting for Logan to come out of the store. One of them was sitting in the drivers seat, looking for all the world like a dignified chauffeur. I took the time to see, and he made me smile.
I took time to drive down to the end of Main Street and see the sun set. I know other towns have rivers, other towns have sunsets, but this one is my town, and I think it’s more beautiful than anywhere else. There is something about being from somewhere, about belonging to somewhere, that is gift.
I took time to keep driving, past my own driveway. There was a song I wanted to hear on the radio, and I just, drove on. This road I live on dead-ends into the Scuppernong River. It’s beautiful there, unspoiled. It’s real. So much in life is counterfeit, but this—the river, the trees, the cypress knees, they are truly lovely.
And I took time to watch a dinosaur cross the road. He is a snapping turtle, maybe as old as I am, and he crossed the road from one splash of swamp to another. I stopped, waited for him, prayed no one would come around the curve ahead of me, and watched until he slipped down into the green water of the swamp one more time.
I took time today, and it has been a beautiful day.
Blessings,
Vickie
Used by permission – Vickie Woolard – October 14, 2024