It’s Five Minute Friday. The only post of the week where it’s acceptable for me to write in five-minute increments. The rest of the time I do that because otherwise there would never be any posts on this blog.
I think I’m on a quest to take back the ordinary. To find the slow. To have days that linger and stretch and tumble into one another because nothing significant is happening. Days where the best moments are little giggles and sloppy kisses and toddlers who pee in the potty by themselves and ask me if I think the water will turn yellow or purple.
Days of just being, just staying, just waiting. Days that aren’t rushing by so fast that the keyboard clicks on the i-phone are now the speed of my life. Just days. Just ordinary. Just my kids in their mismatched pajamas and homemade cinnamon bread and slow-cooker stews. Nothing extra-ordinary about it. Ironically, these days are so rare that they become extraordinary simply because they exist so seldom. So few days of just being.
I think I like the ordinary. The simple. The mundane. At least for awhile. It’s a nice place to come home to, to steep myself in, to rest. Sometimes I just need all those ordinary time capsules of precious minutes compiling into one sweet day where the most ordinary things that happen are the greatest moments of all.