Recently I was walking home from the Metro after another evening of working late – tired, of course, and hungry, because as usual I didn’t know that I’d be working late by the deadline to order dinner on the firm.  As I trudged up the steps to my front door, I waved hello to my next-door neighbor, who was gardening in her front yard.  She waved back, then frowned, and said “You must think that I have no life.”

I thought about that.  There she was, enjoying the peace of a long summer evening with her hands in the dirt, transplanting bunches of echinacea.  And there I was, just hoping that I’d made it home in time to kiss Nugget good night before he fell asleep (no hope on Peanut, who sacks out at about 6:45 every night).  “On the contrary,” I told her, “I think you have a lovely life.”

I wouldn’t classify life as particularly exciting at the moment.  I’m not a Hollywood starlet or an Olympic skier, or Meghan Markle.  But it sure does seem to be fast-paced.  My weeks are often spent at a breakneck speed, rushing to and from work, school or camp, and home.  From the time the kids wake up until the time they drop off to sleep, I’m either parenting – bumping around the kitchen making lunches, searching for sandals and lost toys, breaking up fights – commuting, or working.  If I’m lucky, some of those hours are made up with reading stories or playing trains.  But no matter what, it is constant.  And it feels as though it’s all happening at the speed of sound.  That’s not a comfortable or enjoyable pace for me, and I’ve found that the only way to get through this extended busy season is to take every opportunity I do get to slow down.

I’ve always been drawn to the idea of a life lived at a seasonal pace.  Even in high school, I dreamed of retreating to the mountains to live in a little cabin surrounded by lavender and mountain laurel.  I’d keep chickens, grow a big garden, and spend my days roaming the trails, swimming in a pristine lake, and writing the Great American Novel.  In the winter, I’d snowshoe through a balsam forest and then come home and curl up under a cream-colored blanket.  In the summer, I’d strum a guitar by a campfire – never mind that I don’t know how to play the guitar – and stockpile garden bounty for the colder months.  (Basically, I wanted to homestead before I knew that homesteading was a thing that happened outside of a Laura Ingalls Wilder novel.)  Sometimes, in this fantasy, I had a family.  Other times, I was blissfully alone.  Of course, I knew that it was never going to happen.  But it sure was fun to think about.

I may not be living in an isolated mountain cabin.  My busy lawyer-mom life is a far cry from the hermit life I dreamed of living.  That’s a good thing.  I’d much rather live this life I’m living, hectic as it often is.  I wouldn’t trade my husband and kids, or our bustling city lifestyle.  But I do try to slow it down, especially on weekends when I have the luxury of doing so.  I love the slow things in life – long leisurely lunches, complete with a crisp rosé in the summer.  Picnics in the sunshine.  Long walks through peaceful wooded paths; bonus points for a breathtaking overlook.  Reading for hours.  Sipping a cup of tea while watching the rain pour down outside my window.  The extended process of bread-baking.  Sitting curled up on the couch in the children’s section of the library, watching my kids play with the latch boards and bead boxes.  Knitting a shawl.  Paddling my kayak down my favorite (gentle) stretch of Potomac or around an Adirondack lake.  The rhythmic sound of my running shoes on the Mount Vernon Trail.  Long conversations with a good friend.

Fast-paced things have never drawn me.  Steve loves fast cars and shoot-em-up video games; I don’t get the attraction at all.  I’m glad he knows what makes him happy, and glad to indulge him in his own personal joys.  But for me – I want something simpler.  I want time, time with friends, time with family, time with my kids.  I want quiet, and peace, and rest, and when I get those things I try to make them last.

What slow things make you happy?  Or do you like to live at a faster pace?