A Breath of Fresh Air By: Sarah

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• As I walked into the warehouse store, clutching Isaac's hand tightly, I was anticipating the rest of the day. We had a limited amount of time to shop, get lunch and get Isaac to preschool. I was lost in my thoughts of calculating the day ahead, staying on time, and keeping everything and everyone under control.  
• I was focused. I was driven. I was not to be diverted.

• As I crossed the parking lot, ready to enter the doors, a rather ordinary looking middle aged man was leaving. He wasn't taller than 5'9" or 5'10". He was wearing a pressed plaid shirt which was tucked neatly into his jeans which were held up with a black leather dress belt. He was bald on top and his remaining graying hair was neatly clipped around his ears and cut short and tidy in the back. His gray mustache was trimmed conservatively above his upper lip and he wore a nondescript pair of glasses. He was the spitting image of normal, mediocre.
• I probably wouldn't have even taken notice of him or his shopping cart full of bulk items, except for the fact that as he exited the store, he took off at a sprint for about 10 feet, hopped on the back of the cart, and this 55-ish year old man rode his cart, 8 year old style, all the way to his car.

  And in that surprising moment I stopped and watched him. And I envied him. That he could give himself permission for gratuitous fun. To be carefree.

  I love the idea of being carefree. Not all the time, but I crave more of those moments.

  I want to feel the euphoria of belly laughing. Everyday, catch my breath, make eye contact with the cause of my laughter and then belly laugh all over again.

  

  
  Even as I write this I find myself thinking of ways I could be more carefree with my children, because it would benefit them to see their mom having fun, because it would build and bond our relationships. But the guy at the store didn't have any kids with him. He was riding that cart because... Well I don't know why. Maybe for no reason at all but that it was fun and it felt good to fly through the parking lot like that. And I think that's what I was envious of.

  Every once in awhile I want to do something, not because it is productive, but because it is a breathe of fresh air into a structured life.

  The struggle is knowing or remembering what that thing is that makes me feel that way, and then giving myself permission to do it..
• I want more of the feeling that flows over a person when they lie down at the top of a grassy hill and roll down, giggling, grass flying, not worrying about dirt or grass stains.
• I want more of the feeling that fills your souls when you throw your head back and ride the shopping cart full throttle through the grocery store parking lot. 
• And I want to do it because I want to do it. Not because it is the responsible thing to do, or because my kids will think I'm silly. I spend so much energy trying to keep it all together and sometimes I just want to let it all go.
• I spent my adolescence trying to "find myself" and I spent the last twelve years losing myself.
• I adore that I lost myself in my husband 12 years ago. And I savor how I lost myself all over again each time I welcomed a new baby into our home. I love that I lost myself, and I wouldn't change it for all of the world.
• I am not the same person I was. I thank God that I have changed. I love how I have grown and deepened. I have learned so much.  In that time I have discovered how talented and hard working the man I married is. I have learned where each of my kids' tickle spots are and what each of their distinct personalities need from me in any given moment. But, since losing myself 12 years ago I've been thinking lately, perhaps it is time for me to discover this new person in me.  What makes me laugh?  What satisfies my creative urges now?  What is it that makes me feel free?
• And it is going to be so fun figuring me all out.