Happiness is a made bed.
I've made mine just the way I like it
and lying in it feels fantastic.
Made, of course, with a help from my little friends.
This changed life feels like active rest, if that's possible. Like floating on your back with the current and staring up at the stars, moving with the flow with the confidence that its heading just where you need to go.
It flew like this:
I received thanks and sweet-smelling gifts from previous workmates and counted my blessings.
Work rolled in and the challenge was to say 'No' to too much rather than to chase not enough, for which I am truly grateful.
I got into 'Digital Ready' and met other people in our town making their own beds in business.
Hunted for venues for camerata concerts.
Embraced my Stepford side and cleaned house.
Baked cupcakes ready for school pick up to ward off the 'after- school hangries'.
Poached peaches with a dash of Pimms.
Walked out of a yoga class that felt more like beating yourself up with your own limbs than strength, spirit and movement and received a well-intentioned lecture from the very young, unmarried, childless teacher about the importance of embracing challenge.
Talked to first-time expectant mothers, shared their impending joy and shivered at everything they are about to learn that is impossible to explain in advance.
Was gifted 'The Red Tent' by a new sister and remembered how significant is domestic work and are the stories, culture and spirit passed from mother to daughter and the immense power of sisterhood and motherhood.
Welcomed my big boy home from camp and caught a bittersweet glimpse of the man he is becoming.
And I sat with Dane, honouring his life and going with the flow of his slow decline.
Even when it's messy, a bed of my own making is my favourite place to be.