What a rush

Every now and then, I would like to be able to have a single, solitary thought, one at a time. My head is usually full of to-do lists, some for work, some for family. Sometimes those lists spill over onto sticky notes, when I think my brain just can't contain them anymore. I don't think it's a sign of aging. I think it's a sign of the times. We're all trying to do too much, too fast, too often. I know I'm creeping up on 40, and I'm okay with that. What I'm not okay with is the kind of world my son is growing up in, where he's hurried along (by me) from school to homework to piano lessons to swimming. And what kind of world it's going to be by the time he's grown. Perhaps my fondest wish for him ought to be that he'll buy a plot of land to call his own and do subsistence farming. What a slower pace of life he'd have then, with time to think and reflect. No Blackberries, or agendas, or sticky notes. No voice mail, or even e-mail, unless he wanted to, on his time. I've given this so much thought lately that I've resolved to make Saturday (after the morning swimming lesson, that is) all about free time for him. Remember free time? When time away from school meant you could play, or watch TV, or run around outdoors for hours, using your imagination, making up stories, learning to whistle with a blade of grass, trying to balance on the big old beach rocks that lined the pathway to your grandfather's house. I remember that. My son's pretty lucky these days. He gets the bus after school to his dad's place, and gets to be in his own space, with his brother and sister. So Saturdays, too, are now about being in our own space. Use your imagination, my son, and create racecars out of K'nex, and costumes for your stuffed animals out of construction paper. Don't let me drag you into my world yet, of deadlines and to-do lists. Enjoy every minute of your childhood, and perhaps you can help your mom to catch some of those moments, too, when all we have to do is BE, and think.