Breathing room

I’ve been reminded lately of a singular episode from my childhood. I’m not certain of my age, but I would guess it was between 12 and 14. I had just done something to merit a (seemingly rare) reward from Dad, and even more surprisingly, he asked for my input on what the reward should be. I had a simple request: that, for the duration of the upcoming weekend, he stay out of my face.

In another great surprise, he not only agreed to my suggestion but, for all intents and purposes, abided by it all weekend. I have no particular glowing recollections of grand adventures–I probably spent most of the weekend reading, probably playing tennis, and perhaps listening to my modest CD collection and playing a few more games on my Mac TV than I normally would have. Nevertheless, that weekend stands as one of the happiest memories from at least the first 16 years of my life.

Why am I relating this story? Rest assured that it’s not because I have some severely belated bone to pick with the way Dad raised me–I have no doubt that he always did what he thought was best for me, and I greatly appreciate the lessons and values he imparted. Sure, we had our disagreements, but what parent and child don’t?

No, I shared the anecdote because the weekend I just concluded has some striking similarities to the one referenced above. As a natural introvert, I enjoyed having a lot of time, a lot of space, and nobody bothering me. I didn’t shut myself in all weekend–I played tennis yesterday with another young officer to whom I was fortunate to be introduced at a gathering back in the fall, and this afternoon I spent a good few hours studying and just hanging with a friend who’s trying to finish up training. Otherwise, I read, watched some of the PGA Match Play Championship (held just outside Tucson–wish I could still attend!) and a couple of episodes of Breaking Bad, cleaned my car, cleaned my house, made tacos, listened to copious music, worked on the fractal jigsaw puzzle, sent several texts that weren’t returned and some that were, did laundry, enjoyed the wintry weather (it snowed a bit Friday night and has been really coming down tonight), and got a generous quantity of sleep. Honestly, I’m hella thankful for the 2 days out of each 7 that I don’t have to set an alarm!

On that note, tomorrow is sadly not one of those days, and thus I’d be well served to wrap up this entry and turn out the light–though not before moseying over into my newly clean(er) bathroom to floss, brush, and maybe even fluoride rinse.

In closing, is this the life situation I desired or foresaw for myself a few years ago? In many respects, and as readers of this journal likely know, no. Do I miss places I used to go, things I used to do and people I used to see? Terribly. Can I find things to enjoy and appreciate about where I am and what is available to me? If this weekend is a reliable indication, yes.

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