It’s a good thing I’m starting this week because gratitude is a no-brainer right now. I’ve flown east to visit my father and there are few things as blissful for this mother as traveling alone. I have always loved it.
There is no one else to think about. I can indulge totally and shamelessly in foolish magazines, the newspaper, and movies of my choice. A long layover in Atlanta? Great. Delays in Denver? Shucks. I’ll just have to watch another video.
I am treasuring these few days of aimless time and the uncomplicated possessions I can fit in a carry-on. I know from the past if I am not careful, I will squander this time in an effort to Get Things Done, like our household accounting. Experience has shown that I will arrive home with everything up to date and me on the verge of a tantrum.
So this time, I’m balancing my precious spare hours (hotel room to myself!!) between silly romance movies and George Eliot’s Middlemarch, which I’ve been told is one of the best books of the English language. (Liking it so far.) I’ve eaten far too many potato chips, taken a few naps on the luscious marshmallow of a hotel bed, and taken quiet time to journal about where and how to put my energies this year.