Time. I find myself with an abundance of it.
Two weeks ago, I worked my final day at my full time job. For the next few days I caught myself glancing at the clock, just as I did when I was working full time and there was never enough time. Hours used to be so precious that I worried about how fast each was moving. There was never enough time to do chores. Never enough time to really relax. I never let my guard down because time was the enemy and the enemy was always right there, hanging on the wall, a face and two hands fighting to steal every moment.
But it didn’t take long for my clock watching to end. Time has now become precious for what it gives me instead of what it takes away. Now I barely notice what hour it is. I wake up when the sun hits my eyes. I no longer worry about going to bed “on time.” I have become a night owl. And if I wake in the middle of the night, instead of worrying about lost sleep I get up and enjoy the peacefulness of the hour knowing that if I don’t sleep now, I can always make it up later. But usually I find that I don’t need to make it up at all.
I’ve spent my days these first two weeks cleaning closets and organizing drawers, doing laundry and packing boxes for the Goodwill with unwanted items and cast offs. I’ve read cookbooks, planned and cooked meals. I went on a spur-of-the-moment shopping weekend with my daughter and sister. I scheduled a one-hour camera class and when it was finished, I took an unplanned walk with my husband through our local arboretum and then stopped on the way home for a Mexican dinner.
I haven’t checked my e-mail or my telephone answering machine in a week. I no longer own a day planner. I no longer plan my days. My appointments are so few I can now keep them all in my head.
I’ll probably settle into some sort of routine eventually. But for now, I let my hours and days play out with little guidance. And I bathe in the luxury of the ticking clock and the time that I know is all mine.