Dregs of coffee in my mug, dregs of oats in my bowl. It’s a peacefully overcast morning, very welcome to me after a few weeks of parched, dusty days.
On Monday Henry and I were walking to get coffee and he said, “I’m not going to do anything to improve myself today.” So we wandered aimlessly, met new people spontaneously, watched TV shows at noon, napped, and eventually went up to Mount Ashland to camp and relax, falling asleep while giggling in our sleeping bags.
Last night at dinner with friends I was reflecting on Henry’s statement. Who am I naturally, underneath the constant need to improve, better myself, live up to my expectations, exceed my potential, live the best life possible? Probably someone very tender, soft, and vulnerable. I’d like to meet her.