There are days when I greet the day with my feet hitting the floor and my face to the sun.

And then there are days when my heart is just begging to slip back under the covers and retreat into the silent stillness of a morning that has the shades pulled down and the light turned off. It’s those days when I speak to my tired heart and tell her she has to rise to the challenge and find energy somewhere inside.

There are nights when I fall into blissful dream-filled slumber, that spin tales of yellow ducks and laughing children. Shapes transform into familiar people and voices echo from far away telling secrets that dwindle into nothing but mere symbols by morning.

And then there are nights when the darkness creeps up and pushes away the light leaving only thoughts of worry and fear. It’s nights like those that leave me waking the next morning with a racing heart, a pounding head and a thick tongue. And then again my heart is tired.

This tired heart aches for a small break in the hurry-upness, and perhaps a quiet night with a book. It aches for a morning that has coffee and toast and a pink-orange sun that maybe rises in the West and sets in the East or something out of the ordinary like that.

This tired heart yearns for all the dishes to be washed and put back in their places with the cups turned right side up or wrong side down—whichever, as long as they are done.

This weary heart wishes for children to not squabble or her dog to not run into the neighbor’s yard and eat up all of the food left out for the cat. It craves a garden that has already been dug and primed, with seeds already bought and weeds already pulled. A climbing vine with flowers would be lovely, that reach in places around the fence or possibly moonflowers that open at night.

This quiet heart pines for an easy dinner one night that satisfies each one at the table and doesn’t burn or take so long to prepare.  And then we can sit back and talk about things that happened that day and how the teachers give too much homework and wonder when the pool will open this summer.

This tired heart wishes and hopes, dreams and desires for so many things. But then I am reminded that sometimes it is the things that make the heart tired that also make it happy, even when the dishes aren’t put back or the cups aren’t placed right side down. Even when the sun rises in the East, like every other ordinary day and my alarm clock rings at 5:45 am. Even when the dog runs away and eats up the neighbor’s food for the cat.

So maybe, I will find a tiny pause to read a book and drink coffee and eat toast and give my tired heart a break.

Just for today.

And tomorrow I will greet the day with my feet hitting the floor and my face to the sun.

Maybe.

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Editor: Rachel Nussbaum

Photo Credit: Flickr/Trang Angels