What’s your ideal Saturday morning? Are you doing those things this morning? Why not?
My ideal Saturday morning is quiet. So quiet you can hear a pin drop, the clock tick, and the water from the melting icicles on the window frames drip. I can hear the birds outside singing in the trees and hear the squirrels scampering over the snow on the porch. Every now and then the toot from someone’s car horn will waft towards me but it doesn’t disrupt the quiet.
I begin the day by lying in bed after waking, reveling in the quiet and solitude and warmth of my sheets. I’ll slowly rise as the sun climbs higher in the sky. Noon: I wash the sleep out my eyes and change into clothes suitable for the day. I make my way downstairs for breakfast and eat while admiring the handiwork of nature—the snow on the bare trees, the buds on the trees waiting for spring to bloom. After eating, I wash the dishes and pack them away then begin setting up for a day of creative work—whether writing or drawing or simply thinking. It’s a quiet day. An unhurried day. A day spent musing while writing, listening while drawing, sighing while thinking. It’s my perfect Saturday.
But did I do those things yesterday? No. Yesterday was noisy. It began noisy, it ended noisy, and gave me a migraine in the process. I woke to my mother’s voice—parents conversing in the kitchen,—which progressed to my father increasing the volume of the television. I laid in bed trying to tune out the noise and find some semblance of peace but that evaded me. I thought I might as well join the noise since it’s unavoidable and went about my day. But much as I tried to go along with the flow of the day, I felt out of balance. I craved peace but there was none to be had in my house. I craved solitude but it was almost impossible to secure it.
I spent the majority of the day thinking I was going crazy. All I wanted was some peace and quiet. I wanted to hear my thoughts but it was impossible so the pressure from my thoughts reaching out to me and my sensitivity to the din in my house caused a commotion in my head that resulted in a pounding migraine….and me angry at the world. I wanted to escape my life, my house, my family for the day. If it wasn’t so cold outside, I would have found somewhere of relative peace to go to find some solitude. But I had no choice but to stay at home and suffer through a hell of noise, hoping that the encroaching night would soothe the intensity of the day and bless me with the peace and solitude I crave.
Note on poem above: I do not know who it’s by but I love the poem. I think it fits the post. It captures what I was reaching for on Saturday. I found the image on Pinterest.
More ideal Saturday mornings (all great reads)
- Saturday Morning and I’m In Love With You (meohmila.wordpress.com)
- My Ideal Saturday Morning (tombalistreri.wordpress.com)
- Jack and Jane (illgiveyoualetterforthat.wordpress.com)
- Saturday Walk in Athens (aspectsofathens.com)
- a Morning (unbolt.wordpress.com)
- Saturday (sherylinahouseofsweets.wordpress.com)
- Here He Comes to Save the Day, Mighty Mouse is on the Way (wanderwomanblog.com)