Thursday, July 25, 2013

10 Minutes

I am a creature of the light. The short days of winter wear on me to the point that I struggle with a deep depression. Dark when I get up and go to work. Dark when I get home. I can almost feel the vigor and energy seeping out of my skin. Realizing how finite the long days of summer are, I try to take full advantage of them. This includes spending lots of time sitting outside in my screened-in porch. I can often be found out there after dinner reading my latest book or enjoying time with my daughter.

Now that we have passed through the summer equinox, I can already notice the days getting shorter. Just a few weeks ago, I could sit outside until 8:30 or 8:40 p.m. with enough sunlight to read my book, I now can barely see at 8:00 p.m.. My anxiety reminds me of a woman fretting over her ever-resonant biological clock. Time is running out to take advantage of what I have. I can feel completely defeated if something comes up at the last minute that delays me from getting outside to drink in all of the sunlight that I can.

The other night, my delay was entirely self-inflicted and I ended up just kicking myself over it. I knew that after I finished cleaning up the dinner dishes, that I would have only about 10 minutes of light left to relax with outside. I worked quickly to keep on my schedule, realizing how much I was looking forward to my short time outside. I don't know what happened, but some random thought jumped into my mind to check something on the computer. Before I realized what I was doing, so much time had elapsed that it was pitch black outside. I had wasted my opportunity. I had allowed myself to become distracted by something trivial and lost an opportunity to find my peace. I can't tell you the number of times that I have let insignificant things get in the way of experiencing something so much better, so much more important. In some cases, it is a few moments of relaxation. In others, it is the death of a relationship.