I sit here on this misty rainy morning grasping on to as much as this slow morning before I head out to the 21 faces that greet me at the door with their toothless smiles, over zealous irreplacable hugs, and little hands that are ready for more; Ready for more laughs, school family time, more of me, more learning, more successes…more.
My soul is telling me there is more too.
Everything inside me is screaming to soak up the rain: to lace up my shoes and run through the trees with the mist splashing on my face. To breathe it in and end the run with sore cheeks because you couldn’t stop smiling the whole route.
Jeremy hears it from me all the time. Slow mornings are what keeps my heart full. Mornings where you wake up and breathe in the fresh sun. The streets are slow and empty, and the morning dew hasn’t even thought about burning off quite yet. The hardest part of being an adult is watching those become less and less. I dream of mornings sipping coffee slowly, to pull any book down and read eloquent words from the greats, to run through the misty mornings, to watch my husband’s hazel eyes light up as he dreams of our next big adventure in deserts or mountain tops.
I want these, yet I’ve been told otherwise. I grew up in a world where car payments and 30 year mortgage loans are the norm. I grew up where you work as much as possible at whatever you can, so that ONE DAY you can retire and then finally live. What if we don’t make it to the one day and those slow mornings never come?
What if we could do these things that make our hearts beat faster TODAY?
Let’s be honest, we’ve watched and read The Minimalists words (We highly recommend it. Especially Everything That Remains). I don’t think the point is to have the least amount of stuff possible and to live off of the same t-shirt for the next 30 years. I don’t think its a look, a style, a decorating theme anymore. I think it’s more and I am on board.
As I round the last turn on my 26th year of life and I am fast approaching 27, life seems quicker then ever before. Time seems to fly and life seems to become more precious. I make sure to take notice of the small beauties: the steam rising from my tea, the way Kai shows her teeth when I come in the door in a grin, the way the moss grows on the smallest sidewalk cracks. We’ve had two sudden deaths in our lives in the last few months of people we know and its completely thrown our vision upside down. Life seems way less serious and yet we are way more serious about life at the same time. This is where I become on board with what “The Minimalists” declare.
I want every piece of my life to have purpose. I want to know everything I own, do, pour myself into, and even say is something that has value and passion inside of me and for the world. I want to know that where my money went was worth that time that requires me to work to afford it, instead of being out soaking up sunsets in flowers fields or on 35 day road trips, with no agenda but to be back by August and see as much of the world as we can.
I want to teach the world, our future kids, and those who know me that there’s something more and we can make it whatever we want it to be.
I want to not only strive to pay the mortgage like most tell you to do, but I want to be okay in the teaching job or who knows where else I love because that adds value. This world needs passion.
I want to be free from the fancy car payments, so that instead, we head out on the open road.
I want more then large retirements, home owning, name brands, and a large savings account.
I want to be able to wake up and soak up the smell of the trees change in pursuit of the seasons changing. I want to write and encourage the world to slow, to live small, not because it’s cool, but because it leaves room for so much more. When we aren’t strapped any more, we are free to know people, places, and even yourself more clearly than ever before.
There’s got to be a way.
We feel it. We want it.