What I'm Going to Pack

When we first moved here 10 years ago, it was summer like it is now. We found an outdoor patio, with only two or three tables, where we could sit and have tea and watch crowds of people go by. It was a unique little place and we felt, then when we discovered it, that this would be a place that we'd come often. We saw ourselves sitting in the sun, drinking out tea, mine hot, Joe's iced, and chatting. As we moved in, we went there often, we loved it every time. The sun, the tea, the ever changing scenery, and of course the company we kept with each other made it a special place that we knew we would enjoy often.

Then, we were moved in. Those tea breaks became rarer.

Then, the busyness of life took hold of us. They ended almost entirely.

What with work and with travel and with all the things that needed doing, there just wasn't time to get over there. There wasn't time to stop, breathe, talk and ponder together. Every weekend there was stuff to get done. Time flowed by.

Yesterday was a rare one. It was warm and sunny. We set out, purposely to go over there, grab a table if there was one and have our teas. We had a stop to make on the way and just as we got there I noticed that the power meter on my scooter was down bar.We did what we needed to do and headed back home. I kept my eye on the meter and saw it flick between one and two bars. I told Joe that I really wanted to go and that we should give it a try.

On the way there, close enough that we could see an empty table, the scooter died. No panic, we've been here before. I shut it off, waited about 5 minutes, and turned it back on. The scooter, after taking a breath, had found a bit more power. We got home and were waiting for the elevator. I told Joe how disappointed I was, it was a lovely day, I wanted tea, and I wanted to sit on the patio. Then, "Joe is there a plug on the wall anywhere in the lobby?" There was.

Joe went up and got the charger. He came back down and plugged the scooter in. We talked and decided that Joe would run across the street to get some stuff we needed for dinner and then after taking back to the apartment, we'd head out. I knew it was only about a 10 minute charge, but it wasn't far to go.

We got there, got a table and I saw that there were two bars left. I had the power to get home. Joe grabbed the tea, we sat and chatted and pondered. I remembered back to when we moved in, and how we took breaks here, and how much I felt like this was our place, that this was something we'd do. But. We didn't. We were both caught up in a life where there was only time to be busy.

Now we are moving out. Again we were back there having tea. Again we were really enjoying ourselves. Again we were wondering why we never made time for this. Why did we let ourselves get so busy that there wasn't time for taking time? I don't know.

We've already planned, actually planned, to go there again tomorrow. We'll sit and talk about the move and our new life in our new place. We'll talk about what's going on with the move but more importantly we'll talk about what's going on in our lives.

Maybe, and I hope this is true, we'll wonder why it's so easy to be drawn away from quiet time together, out of our house, out of our routine, to just talk.

Our lives are often stressful.

Isn't that a universal experience of being an adult?

Moments like these push the stress aside.

I want more of these.

I look forward to being done with the move. I intend on packing the realization that intentional pauses in the day, intentional time taken for each other, intentional moments to reflect together matter.

I know I'll pack that, in with all our other stuff.

What I'm worried about, is remembering to unpack it when we get there.