SPRING AT FOREST HILL PARK

The word I have on the brain these days is, “hustle”. Hustle in the sense that I want to get things done, but also hustling to make sure that I am practicing and honing my craft.  I feel like a cheeseball having written the phrase, ‘practicing and honing my craft’, but I’m excited about things, so have a slice of cheese. I’m really feeling the energy and winds of a changing season; I’m feeling the highs and lows, the excitement and depression… all necessary for the honing process. I’ve also been so busy I can hardly believe it; but it less a complaint, and more a humblebrag. I like so much every single thing that I’m doing, and I want to do even more; I just keep running smack into the restraints of time.

I think the word of this year for me is going to be ‘balance’.  Because really, the golden egg is finding this balance. Of finding a sustainable and lasting means in which to live out my dreams to be all the versions of myself that want the challenge and opportunity to grow. And since I have this blog, believe you me, I’ll keep you updated.

On Saturday night while getting ready for bed, Ken asked me what my favorite part of the day was and I freeze framed that moment for a few seconds. That moment of unloading my weary body into the bed, chatting with my husband, who also happened to be exactly the person I want to be talking to at that moment, and being asked what my favorite part of a full day was.  This should be the stuff of fairy tales.

One of the things we recounted was the afternoon in the park. When we got to the park on that afternoon, Sloane had fallen asleep in her car seat and Ken was half asleep in his grown up seat, but I felt like a giddy kid; giddy about the spring day, about being able to spend the afternoon in a park, about seeing my friend who I only get to see on rare occasion these days. We feasted on crab legs and I kept exclaiming, “this coke zero taste so good with these crab legs right now” and not much else because I was too busy stuffing crab meat into my mouth.  Sloane didn’t get any coke zero but she got some crab and then chewed on pieces of a giant orange the size of her head. We meandered about, half-heartedly played on a playground and considered letting the food coma overtake us so that we could nap on the grass. We left the park slowly, my arms full of a toddler stuffed with oranges, sunshine and hugs.