Life gets busy. Priorities shift. Half-written letters collect dust. We eat a frozen Amy's meal again for dinner. I bump into the friend I've been meaning to call for weeks on the street and feel, in the midst of my apologies and explanations of the current state of life, that she believes me to be avoiding her. My dog looks at me longingly, her big brown eyes sad as I walk out the door in the morning, having neglected her favorite activity - an early morning jaunt around the neighborhood. The blog sits, stale.
Slow down, I tell myself. Slow down, they tell me. But, how?
I don't know.
Today, J and I went for a walk in the woods with Lucy. As we were walking back to our newly acquired Forester - a car guaranteed to make life with a carseat easier - I was overcome with the realization that this would be the last Christmas Jordan and I spend alone. These are the moments I haven't exactly taken for granted, but have certainly allowed to flutter past.
When we got home, we were welcomed by a purring cat and some of our dearest friends, whose presence in our house the last week has made it feel more like home -- a home bursting with the joy and relief of reunion and togetherness.
These days, my mind is foggy at best. I went to the grocery store for limes this afternoon. I wandered around for 20 minutes, picked up a few things to make granola, then headed to self-checkout. Two scanned items later, I realized I didn't have the limes.
It's hard enough for me to focus on the here and now in moments of clarity. Now, I'm realizing that I will have to fight to protect the sacredness of the ordinary, the beauty of the every day. I don't want to miss these days. I don't want to miss the precious moments spent with my best friend before she (perhaps) jets off to another country and we don't see each other for another year. I don't want to miss out on savoring these last days and weeks and months with Jordan before our lives are forever changed.
Silly as it may sound, I want to remember this year's Christmas tree. I want to remember eating chocolate chip cookies while we hung ornaments on green, spindly branches. I want to absorb the evenings spent sitting in the light of white lights strung around the pine's girth. I want to be aware of my baby's movement within, my husband's gentle touch on my cheek.
So, I don't know what it means, exactly, for me to slow down and find more space in my life. I don't know what it will take to calm my skittering brain, to re-prioritize life, to find space for quiet and rest. But I know it's worth figuring out.
Alas, in the meantime, I don't have a recipe for you. Thankfully, I know of some incredibly lovely and talented ladies who do:
1. We both need Earthy Feast's Lentil Salad with Roasted Butternut Squash, Chèvre, and Pomegranate ASAP.
2. The holiday season is here, and while I've not quite caught the Christmas spirit, I have been thinking about fudge. Cookie & Kate's fudge has oats. And pecans. And salt. Yes, yes, and yes.
3. Renee from Will Frolic for Food made Bohemian Dream Gift Granola. It has chocolate.
4. Raw vegan eggnog from My New Roots is a holiday cocktail game changer.
5. I made Laura's Garlic Pepper Soba with Chili-Roasted Tofu this week. You should too.
6. Rosemary and caramel and salt in Linzer cookies from Two Red Bowls. Mercy.
7. For breakfast, the prettiest Almond Pear Muffin Tops from The Pancake Princess.
8. Cranberry, Ginger, and Satsuma Clafoutis from Hummingbird High. Hello, beautiful.