Sunday Afternoons

I lie on my back, the hardness of the concrete slab under me padded by my well-used yoga mat, and stare at the late afternoon sky that spreads above the line of thick evergreen trees separating my backyard from the street. For the first time in weeks, there isn't a cloud up there. My body feels pleasantly floaty with that tired-but-content after-yoga feeling. I've been in shavasana for just a few minutes, eyes open, alternating vistas between the blue sky and the green trees, but already it's almost time to get up. It's Wednesday afternoon, 5:25 p.m.

Right on cue, the timer on my phone goes off. It's a pleasant sound, tinkling like bells, but is still unwelcome. I stretch, reach over, and press the button to make it go silent. As I pull myself back into the world of the living, I wish for just a few more minutes of nothing. . .

But not now. Life now is definitely different than it was this past year, when I was only working 21 hours a week and had vast, immense stretches of free time in front of me every day. Now I'm balancing five different jobs in both hands (two elementary schools, a community college class, professional blog, and state training, though that last one is only once every few months so it's not too bad) as well as taking an online course for my teaching license. Without timers and the constant help of Siri's friendly reminders -- "Remind me to get gas for my car. Remind me to cut my fingernails. Remind me to get my food out of the refrigerator." -- things might topple over.

I know I've got it good in some ways. As a 70% employee of the public school system, I only work from 9:20-3:30 (albeit at two different schools 20 minutes apart, which leaves my only lunch option Maison du Mazda) and only until 12:20 on Fridays. My night classes are only two nights a week, teaching the same class I've taught for the past three years and feel very comfortable in.

It's just the rush that I don't like, coming home at 4:15 just to leave at 5:45 and not return until almost 10:00. Finishing every day with a list of things I wasn't able to get done. I feel sometimes that life is an endless stream of things to do, that as soon as I finish one thing it's time to start something else. Even most of the weekend is filled with preparation for the next week.

Then, enter Sunday afternoon.

Over, Saturday's frenetic household chores and errands. Done, Sunday morning's blog and classwork responsibilities. Here now, a stretch of glorious hours just for me, and me alone. It's a time for nothing, a time to rest. I have to hold these times in my pocket, so precious they are to me.

I know I'm not the only one rushing around like a chicken with its head cut off. I know I'm not the only person who stresses out about things. And I certainly hope that I'm not the only one who finds time to wind down, regroup, and rejuvenate every week. Because without these moments of calm, silence, and solitude, I wouldn't last very long at all.