A Small, Happy Life
There’s something to be said for a small, happy life. And I’m not the only one who thinks so, as this article ( and its followups) from the Times discusses.
This weekend, we had no set places to be, no pressing errands or chores. It was amazing. We reveled in our time together, sleeping late, being lazy, and doing what we wanted. We had dinner with friends, stopped in to say hi to my Mom, and had a leisurely lunch out. It was a weekend of nothing special, but yet everything special.
When I was married, every weekend was chock full of activities, people to see, places to go. It was exhausting– even a coworker once commented on how tiring even hearing about my weekends were to her. It was one of the biggest issues for me within my marriage- we were never still, it seemed.
It’s not so much that I’m an introverted homebody. Does wanting to relax, do a whole lot of reading or hanging out mean I don’t want big things or have goals and dreams? No.
It means I’m happy with the life I’ve created– this life I stood up for, ended a marriage for– it means I’m happy with the Saturday afternoon spent reading in my sunroom, with my partner napping next to me, while a cool summer breeze comes in the room. It means I’m fulfilled by the family dinners filled with laughter and tears. Or the nights playing tag and watching Disney movies.
I think it takes a lot to have that kind of grace– to be comfortable enough with one’s self to be able to have these quiet moments not just with the family, but with yourself. To sit still and enjoy for an afternoon– or a whole weekend- is a rare treat in this world where we glorify busy and plans. I still want to go places, have adventures, do new things, but my small, happy life does not require every weekend to be Facebook highlight-reel worthy. It’s awe inspiring in its own way to love where you are in life and celebrate it.