POCKETS OF TIME

Don't you love the phrase "pockets of time?"  It's so accurate.  The pocket of time in the morning with coffee or tea. The pocket of time before anyone else is up.  When the children are napping, or watching their favorite show, are at school or on a play-date.  After the house is clean (or maybe while cleaning it), before a night out, before tucking into bed.  Sometimes the walk to the mailbox or a chat with a neighbor is a pocket of time.  Even grocery shopping alone can be a pocket of time.  Time to regroup, to connect with ourselves or someone else, to be with our own thoughts. A "pocket of time" means something good. 

There can also be pockets of time during commutes.  One family member commutes by ferry into Manhattan.  That is his time--one hour each way.  On the commute home he is heading back to his family of three boys under 5.  Our niece, his wife, finds her pockets when the boys are at preschool, or napping. Or a grandparent is there.  Two unflappable young parents living mostly on love.

Another family member keeps their baby strapped to his chest while he works.  Not sure he has a pocket of time, or his wife either, except for curling into bed together.  They are happy too.

 Sleeping Baby and  Watchful Mother

Some experts advise that we find a peaceful place for our pocket of time--a park bench, a cafe, by the kitchen window, on our balcony, porch or deck.  Sitting up in bed with a book or magazine.  But we can grasp a pocket without a special place too; even a standstill in traffic can provide a pocket of time. Time to take a deep breath, to let frustration go, to calm ourselves.  

Since I no longer work full-time I have many pockets of time, especially if I get up first.  Even when the house is crowded.  Time to blog, time to read, time to water the garden, or swim. 

This summer we are not taking a vacation.  We have a grandchild who arrives at 7:30 to spend the day while her mom and dad work.  That is a blessing, as all of us who are grandparents know.  Or as many of us remember from our own childhood with a grandparent, after school or in the summer.  Or perhaps raising us.  So we are calling our house Camp Cornwallis, after the street where we live.  I'm trying to make our nest a retreat, our home a kingdom, our town a destination.  That way the stay-cation is not second choice.   I think it's working!  Last week we had three grandchildren stay.  No one seemed to want to be anywhere else.  How glad that makes me! My pockets of time were fewer but that was fine.  I think my niece must feel that way.  

So if you live in town find a park bench.  Sit alone or keep an eye on the children.  Take a walk with a child in a stroller, or let the kids run ahead.  Feed everyone pizza and flop on the couch.  Let the house go and stay outside.  Eat leftovers.  Play music or enjoy the silence on your commute.  Walk the neighborhood.  Hide out in the garage or garden shed.  Find a place to float on your back.  Or dream about it.  Oh my, the list of how to find and enjoy pockets of time to nourish ourselves, to be ourselves, is endless.  Thank you God.  Nina Naomi