I love those Monday mornings where I have to ask myself these questions – where did the weekend go? What did I do?
That’s because on those Monday mornings, the answer is usually “nothing”. And that’s perfect.
It turned into an impromptu long weekend. Thursday was fantastic. Perfect, went off without a hitch. I ran around all day, in shoes that were unexpectedly uncomfortable (that being the only glitch, of my own making, as they were new). By the end, I was exhausted – that kind of exhausted where you are worn out from a truly great day and cannot squeeze even one more thing into it. I crashed when I got home, slept 10 hours and then got up and as predicted by coworkers, called out for the day. I needed it.
I lounged, I talked to my mom for a while, I napped for hours. I got up and went shopping. I bought this for myself:
Instead, on Saturday morning, I finished I Am Not Myself These Days by Josh Kilmer-Purcell. Fabulous. Light and fun and oddly hopeful. Then, I shopped some more. Mother’s Day and upcoming weddings and such. I drank great wine. I texted friends and caught up on tv and relaxed for the first time in weeks. I knitted a little.
On Sunday, I lounged some more. Then I went over to my parents’ house to hang with the family for Mother’s Day. The highlight of my weekend came as a surprise. We ended up spending hours going through old family photos. Turns out that my mother ended up with her mother’s photo albums years ago and they’ve sat in a closet since. Mom, my brothers, sister in law and sister in law to be and I sat around the dining room table going through hundreds of pictures, many from the 60s, 70s and 80s but some from the 30s and 40s. One was dated 1919. What a gift. So much family history and memories. I now have pictures of my maternal grandparents for the first time – one, a few years before my grandfather passed away and one from 1945, when they were a young couple and he was just back from WWII, in his Navy uniform. Amazing. Mom reminded us all that there’s another 40 years worth of family pictures to go through – all of her and my father’s pictures. Next time, we’ve promised. I had earlier complained to a friend that Mother’s Day was too much a Hallmark holiday. I could do without the sappy cards and commercialism and crap. Totally by accident, we found a way to turn into a day with real meaning, sharing memories and piecing together some of our history. I can’t think of a better way to celebrate.