The human body is amazing. You can push it beyond extreme limits, like triathlons, living in outer space, or raising three kids during a pandemic.
But your body, at some point, gets tired.
Day after day, you power through, push past, grind, rise above, find a way, drink more caffeine.
But your body gets tired.
And then the day comes. Late afternoon. Bone tired. Mind a wreck. The sunlight just starting to fade. You’ve finished your work. The kids are fine, watching something or other, popcorn everywhere. You sneak away. No one even knows you’re gone. You tiptoe into your bedroom.
You lie down.
It’s glorious.
Instantly, the fatigue begins to lift. You think of your phone. A podcast? Music? Scroll Twitter?
No. Just rest. It’s amazing.
And then it happens. You fall asleep. No one knows. In an instant, you enter that child-like, warm, womb-like state just on the edge of consciousness. One long sigh and then you’re really gone, floating off with cherubs in a soft cloud. This might very well be a personal high point of the pandemic. The cloud, the cherubs, floating away to Dream Land…
Until.
You hear.
The cherubs are playing music.
But it’s not a sonata on the french horn. It’s…
Hot cross buns.
On the recorder. With xylophone backing. And someone yelling.
And that’s the moment you fall back to earth. You hear your 3rd grader practice. With the 3-year-old playing xylophone, which belongs to the 6-year-old, which explains the yelling.
You reach for that feeling of renewal, of restoration…but it’s gone. You’re more tired than ever.
Hot cross buns
Hot cross buns
One a penny
Two a penny
Hot cross buns
