I had big plans to start a new habit today. Not a big deal, but a goal nonetheless. I planned to start walking the dog instead of simply letting her out into the yard. After all, I’m on summer vacation, and we could both use the exercise. Not a huge commitment; just a ten minute walk each morning.
I woke up slowly, and rolled over in bed, vaguely wondering about the time. I had let the dog out at 4am (she’s an old girl with a bladder tumor). My husband had left for work around 5, and I kissed him goodbye and happily rolled over and went back to sleep. So it must be at least 6. Maybe 6:30? I reached for my phone and lifted it three inches from my face (that’s as far as I can see without my glasses). 6:54. Not bad! It usually takes a few days for my body to realize that I don’t have to wake up at 5, so this was a win.
I slid my glasses on and shuffled to the bathroom, already trying to hype myself up for a walk. And I heard the sound of the rain through the open window. A pretty steady downpour was already making new plans for me. I brushed my teeth, threw in a load of laundry, unloaded the dishwasher… and lay back down on the bed to answer a text from my son. I was mentally readjusting my plans for the morning. Some writing. The grocery store. A little light cleaning. A mid-morning nail appointment.
And then the cat jumped onto my bed. This cat is barely more than a kitten, and relatively new to us. She is an endless source of entertainment; she prefers to nap ON people, and she doesn’t care what you’re doing. Reading a book? That’s fine. She’ll lay right in your lap, with her rear end positioned so you can’t turn the pages. Watching TV? No worries. She has a way of sitting right on your chest, with her head on your neck and her tail directly in your line of vision. Last night, there was an odd rustling, rattling noise in the bedroom. I looked up to see her perched on TOP of the bedroom door. She had climbed up the bathrobe that hangs on a hook on the back of the door, and looked pretty proud of herself as she balanced at the top, contemplating her options for getting back down.
So I was unsurprised when she stepped right between my face and the phone, settling into a furry ball on my torso. She wiggled and repositioned, insisting on neck scratches AND belly rubs at the same time. Her ferocious purring was a sign of her gratitude. And for a moment, I stopped running through my plans. I felt the rumble of her purring and the warmth of her body and the softness of her fur. I noticed the sound of the rain hitting the leaves outside and paid attention to the breeze from the open window. I swear, I could feel my blood pressure drop. I focused on my breathing and reminded myself to just BE in the moment.
It only lasted a few minutes, but it was divine. It reset my day. It took my focus away from goals and shifted it to gratitude. It moved my mindset from productivity to peace. And it gave me a glimpse of what I want my summer to feel like. I’ll let you know how long it lasts.