On my run this morning I was listening to some of the greats –you know, Ludacris, Jayzee, P Diddy, when a city bus blocked my path. The driver got out and strolled into the Starbucks. The passengers looked on, they didn’t seem the least bit peeved. It was Saturday after all.
The driver’s body language was unapologetic, he walked with one hand in his pants pocket, slow but deliberate, his hair trimmed neatly; he was handsome, maybe 35. He likes a good strong coffee, I thought. Maybe he’ likes a coffee joint who gives its employees a decent wage and benefits. Maybe he's an advocate of fair trade. Who knows?
I ran past, crunched the snow-covered boulevard, and went back to admiring Sean Kingston’s rapping. I had no clue what he was talking about but liked it nonetheless.
I considered what I wanted to accomplish this year. I don’t bother much with resolutions but it’s almost impossible not to think about them a little when you’ve got a fresh new year ahead.
Over the Christmas break Deaglan called me out on one of my failings. “You never play with me anymore,” he said. Shaune looked up from his phone. This oughtta be good, he probably thought. I’ve said it before; I just don’t know how he does it. He plays with the kids all the time. Me? I cuddle. I kiss. I snuggle. I read. But I can’t seem to get the playing part down.
It feels like swimming to me.
When I’m in a pool for exercise purposes, 15 minutes feels like seven hours. And I keep looking up at the clock. But after that day, I tried harder. I started with the easy stuff. We played Candyland over and over. We did Spiderman puzzles. I’ve been working my way up to role play, the hardest kind of play for me.
I just never know what to say when I have to be the evil Batman.
And I’ve been thinking about how little I wrote last year. It bothers me every single day because I think about writing almost all the time. But I don’t sit down to do it because well, because there’s laundry to fold, dishes to put away, the kids to snuggle, and I’m at work all day.
More play. More writing. Sounds good doesn’t it?