Creature of habit

Creature of habit

While Poss might be a creature of habit, you don’t have to look too hard to see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I’m the first to admit, that once I find something I’m comfortable with, then I don’t generally seek out change.

I’m not alone in this. Most people get comfortable in a routine. I’m sure it’s some sort of prehistoric human logic kicking in; we eat the berries, they didn’t kill us, we should eat those again. Makes sense, yes?

Of course life doesn’t always run that smoothly. I might be able to choose my drive to work each day, so that both Poss and I could predict the twists and turns with our eyes closed. I might be able to choose my coffee from the same place, in the same way every time. I can even choose my clothes so they are just variations of the same, week in and week out. Black on black makes it easy enough.

But there are things we can’t choose. Always. Even when we think we’ve got it all figured out, there will be something come along and throw out the routine. Small things, even the tiniest of things, compound into big things.

A night away for work here, a few days out of the office there, the emails pile up and I’m chasing my tail trying to get back on top. Bad news about a friend that fills my mind, knowing she’ll be fine, but wishing with my everything we weren’t even having these conversations. Don’t die, I tell her. Tongue in cheek. But not.

Poss did her book parade, and I managed to make it to watch her walk through the crowds. It was the first one I’ve made it for since she moved schools. Small gains, big smiles. Afterwards she walks me back to the classroom, cartwheeling across the oval, and shows me her science book. It’s neat, she’s smart, she’s proud, I’m prouder.

Mum swoops in and forces me to get out of the house. “Let’s walk on the beach” she says. We pack the tiny dog in the car and throw the ball until she stops chasing it. Poss cartwheels on the sand, her legs twisting and turning over and over again. Up, down, up, down.

A bit like my week. My mind. I take my anti-anxiety meds and breathe.

The sun finally broke through this weekend after a winter that seems to have gone on forever.

We played in the garden while Husband cleaned out the shed. We tidied up the sand that the tiny dog bought back from the beach with her. Poss cleaned the shells she’d collected and we watched her as she cartwheeled around the front yard.

Up, down, up, down. Breathe.

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  1. Good on your Mum for getting you out!
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