Nothing

The Friday commute home is shorter than other days. Maybe it just feels shorter because I’m more relaxed. Less anxious. My phone is tucked deep into my jacket pocket with the ringer on “silent”. I’m done with email and meetings for a couple of days. If I’m lucky, I’ll have saved a good podcast for the drive home. The BS Report or TWIT will do.

The best weekends have nothing planned.

No church activities.

No soccer.

No yard work.

Nothing.

Except maybe chasing the kids around the couch. Or getting trounced at a game of Wii bowling. Or having my son show me the skyscraper he built with wooden blocks. I know he’s built something noteworthy when he takes me by the hand and leads me to his creation. As if I’d get lost on the way.

As I walked on the treadmill tonight I laughed as I watched Kim swinging her hips side to side as she made her way through the hula hoop exercise on our new Wii Fit. Our three oldest children had climbed of out bed and were standing behind her making similar but more animated motions.

Kim didn’t seem to mind the company until Lincoln described her Mii avatar as “puffy”. I worked off more calories chasing them back to bed than I did walking at my leisurely pace on the treadmill.

“We’re bored”, was the excuse they’d settled on tonight.

“Read a book”, I said.

“I’ve read all the books in the universe”, replied Luca.

I kissed each of them on the cheek and forehead, pulled the blankets up tight and made sure none were following me down the stairs.

Maybe nothing turned into something.

Photo by Shelly Rich