You wake up and you're tired. I know. Me too. There are only two minutes I covet in this world with all my heart. The two minutes right before falling asleep because I know I have the e-n-t-I-r-e night to be asleep. Then I wake up and I'm just not ready to do all the day things again because I can't let go of all the night things and the laying there not cleaning, cooking, walking, standing, folding, nurturing, cussing, and let's not forget someone has to tackle dressing my daughter. It feels gluttonous to lay in bed doing nothing and having more fun in my dreams than a person should talk about but still, I'm not ready to get up.
So yes, I get it. I'm tired during the day too.
But there's an awesome way through it that I think might be a secret.
We can fall in love every day. Sounds impossible or too exhausting but believe me, it works. And it's so much damn fun.
Falling in love is risky. It's dangerous, innocent, inspiring, delicious.
Falling in love is not easy but it's worth it, every single time. Even the time when that super hot college freshman saved a seat in Bio Chem for you decided not to love you back. It was worth it to catch a whiff of his Marlboro soaked T-shirt and rusty scruffy beard. When you are awed by the things of your day, your hours are that much juicier.
Your breakfast. That avocado. Look at it like it's the last vegetable (fruit?) you'll ever see on earth. Cut it in half to find that magical wooden orb that looks like it could dangle from your neck on a beaded necklace if you weren't so worried people would gawk. I've thought about it too. Sometimes I stare at the center and think, You are more than a pit little avocado ball. You are a mystery of the universe that I would accessorize if I only knew how the hell to drill a hole through you.
Fall in love with yourself. See your hands as they put the dishes away, arrange items in a lunchbox, rake through your graying hair. Your hands haven't let you down in all these years. They've worked, toiled, cheered, celebrated, and comforted more than your children. More than yourself. Ask your friends. They love your hands. Those aren't wrinkles you see around your knuckles. They are impressions and constellations of what's happened to you throughout a lifetime. You may have forgotten that time you dragged a nest of baby birds out from the bushes (one made it and flew away) but they remember every branch.
Fall in love with your soft belly. It's not hard and ripped and ready for Jello shots. It is soft, supple, likeable, and real. Children rest their head on it and feel happy just because it's there. Husbands don't want to change it and friends love you more because theirs looks the same. We are humans who make humans and sometimes there are reminders of your impossible climb. Don't hate on the reminders, fall in love with their effort and strength.
Fall in love with the impatient lady at the bus stop who refuses to make eye contact. Her stomach hurts because she's waiting for an important phone call from the hospital. She only gets one mom.
Fall in love with someone you miss and cannot see. Take out his picture, let yourself take in the color of his eyes even though yours are welling over and spilling out onto your naked knees. Let yourself love him even though you can't hear him calling your name. Even though you've done really well not thinking of him for a few minutes. Fall in love with him again because I can't think of a better way to remember, in 3D remember, the smell of his hugs. Loving him again is an honor.
These minutes collect whether we're ready or not.
Why not feel dizzy in love through most of them?