…loved the yesterday that I made. I woke close to 7am and baked banana bread. The children had a late opening to school so this meant the bread was ready before they had to leave. My young self was proud that the timing had worked out. My old self felt I should have had it done even earlier so that there had been more time for it to cool before cutting it. Fortunately, my young self is louder than my old self and loves to watch the steam float from between the slices.
My young self enjoyed the extra time with my kids in the morning. My old self lambasted the ice and cold even as my young self successfully stoked the fire. My morning involves a “create before you consume” ritual. Usually I write, but my young self counted building up the flames in the woodstove and baking banana bread as creating. My old self does not think I should think of these activities as “creating”. My young self thinks my old self can be a bit of a puritanical asshole. She’s not wrong.
I had errands to run that took me near to a Michael’s craft store which my old self thinks is an uninspiring chain warehouse full of plastic and trendy crap. My young self’s heart leapt when I granted her permission to buy some beautiful sets of markers which we have the money to afford. Sometimes both of them are right.
My young self marveled that I could make the choice to practice guitar for thirty minutes in the middle of the day just because I could and at the improvement I made even in that short a time. My old self reminded us, “loosen up!” when my shoulder ached from holding it in one awkward position for an unnecessarily long time.
When I realized our family had overbooked, I did the grocery store trip, driving one child to and from various basketball practices, and started dinner (beef stew!) prep. My young self was very impressed by my adaptability, but it was my old self who had the sense to ask my husband to finish making the dinner when I knew I needed rest. It was all three of us who let out a long, hopeful sigh as we sat down next to the fire.
Rhena Writes 