Shortly after my separation, I became a horrible insomniac. Even years later, here I am typing this at almost four in the morning. I keep telling myself, over and over, that I need to get into a regular sleeping pattern. There always seems to be something that arises that needs my attention (although I think I make myself think that, seriously what can’t wait until tomorrow?). I really need to find a method to enforce upon myself.
I took the above picture of my two-year old nephew. He was content to sit there, eat his ice cream, and “let it all hang out.” This reminds me of the simpler times of our youth. We are in such a hurry to grow up and become responsible adults that we have no idea we are rushing the best years of our life. The years that do not include employment, bills, responsibility, management, raising a family. The only requirement of these years is to be a kid. Run outside and play in the mud. Sleep whenever you want. Eat whenever you want. Throw a temper tantrum when you don’t get your way and someone will give it to you. Looking back, I know my younger years were rushed.
I try to remind myself to stop and enjoy every day instead of the constant multitasking and forward motion, but alas here I am blogging when I should be sleeping.