A Rest Day in Where It All Begins

I'm taking a rest day today.

Not just a physical rest day, in the sense that I'm not going for a run or stepping on to the volleyball court, but a soul rest day too. The kind where I find those things that recharge me and do them. Where I stop doing what I should and instead do what I want. Where I revel in the good and the beautiful and not, perhaps, the frustrating or unchangeable. Today I shall set down my stresses and pick up my blessings.

I started it by sleeping in. Rob took care of the dog this morning so when he left with a forehead kiss and a hushed goodbye at 7:30 AM, Claire hopped back up into our great big king sized bed full of a cozy fluffy white down comforter and snuggled in close to me with a deep happy sigh while the fan silently spun overhead and we both fell back asleep immediately.

I woke up on my own a few hours later, the dog quietly snoring beside me, her head on Rob's pillow and not a care in the world. I scrolled the internet, read a little in my latest favorite book and enjoyed a morning that started with an extra 45 minutes between the sheets, the blackout curtains sealing out any sign of life beyond this room and my favorite yellow furbaby running in her sleep beside me.

I peeled back the covers and immediately stripped the bed. Clean sheets tonight are the only way to really wrap up a rest day, in my mind. Started the washing machine, the familiar slish slosh tumbling of the water and the fabric a comfort and welcome background noise on a still perfect morning.

Came downstairs, made myself some breakfast and curled up to watch some TV on the couch. Exchanged a few text messages with friends, my husband, my sister and ironed out some plans for this weekend. I ate some chocolate, because today I do what I want, and didn't even feel bad about it.

I'm starting now to clean the kitchen before a full day of cooking with my best friend. We picked out five awesome crockpot recipes from Pinterest and are making them all, in huge batches, today. We'll pour them into freezer ziplock bags and label them with crisp black sharpies full of cooking instructions, last minute additions and made up names that remind us of this special day where we created meals that will warm our hearts and our bellies as the days turn colder. We will spill spices and trip over our labs that will sprawl, as dogs do, across the very small space where our feet need to be. We'll have music drifting through the air, we'll mess up at least one recipe and then dissolve into giggles over who put twice as much of one thing in or not any at all of another. We'll stain our shirts and somehow get tomato sauce on our knees and yet, at the end, we'll end up with enough food to feed an army. And we'll have had fun doing it.

After we scrub the counter tops and press 'start' on the dishwasher, we will pile into her car and head out to stroll through some of our favorite stores together. The bright shiny aisles of Target, the enchanting and quiet aisles of our favorite thrift shop, the fragrant and stimulating aisles of the bake shop where she needs to grab a few things and maybe even a quick spin through a shoe store where many "oohs!" and "ahhs!" and "you HAVE to get those!" shall be said.

We'll grab dinner somewhere together, feet bumping into each other under the table and making us laugh, telling secrets we don't even tell our husbands, catching up on a life in the intimate and profound way women do who have known each other for more than half their lives. We'll split a dessert, always mindful of keeping our girlish figures, and we'll hem and haw over a fruit flavored pie or a chocolate peanut butter indulgence. No matter what we pick, we'll both insist the other takes the last bite and we'll both leave fulfilled - mind, body and spirit.

From here we're heading over to another friend's house. She had twins four months ago and today is her birthday. As a surprise we offered to babysit for her babies as well as her three year old and send her and her husband out on the town. Now neither my best friend nor I have children but we'll snuggle her little ones faces as if they were our own, kissing cheeks and reading bedtime stories and warming up bottles to rock in side-by-side chairs while a sound machine coos lullabies into the still, dark bedroom with a tree painted on the wall and an owl watching over us. We'll smile at each other across a night light lit room and know we're giving our friend the very best gift we could during this busy time in her life.

They will come home later, a few glasses of wine making their laughter a little louder than normal and their cheeks rosy with reconnection and the release of time spent together for the first time in awhile. My best friend and I will give an update, sharing all the cute things their children did and offering to do this again some time. They will joke that this was probably the best birth control and while they'll be right, they'll also know nothing makes you want a family of your own more than plopping down in the middle of a big happy noisy one and seeing how much love makes so many beautiful moments.

My best friend and I will walk out to our cars along their quiet street and hug in the darkness, lingering for a few moments to really appreciate it. Neither of us are fast huggers. We always stay for a second for a squeeze or a snuggle, appreciating our kinship and connection in a world that can sometimes be anything but kind or connected. We will recap our day, delighting in the food we made, the items we bought, the babies we rocked and the memories we made. We will part ways, headed home on headlight lit paths, towards houses full of sleeping husbands and snoring puppies. We will crawl into our beds, clean sheets on mine delighting me deeply, and spoon our still spouses and sigh happily. While today will be busy and productive, it will still be restful and rejuvenating. It will remind me of my blessings, of my many gifts, of my sacred connections and bonds with the people I love.

So today I am taking a rest day. And I can hardly wait for my best friend to arrive.