Dear friends, an entire week passed by since I last wrote to you, and heard from you, in the bounds of blogland (given that my husband and I don't have a computer or internet connection yet, you can figure out the frequency of my visits to my mother by how often I post). I hope you all have been having a wonderful time, and I was thrilled to come back to a mailbox-full of messages from you.
In the meantime, life is taking its usual course. My husband took the whole week off, and we have been enjoying a blissful, uninterrupted Pesach (Passover). We spent some time with family, but mostly we have been on our own, simply enjoying the magic of each moment before it passes by in its fleeting beauty.
I thought of so many things we needed to do during this week - cleaning; organizing; re-arranging, and all that comes with settling into a new home. I thought I would get up early each day and do some tidying up before we have breakfast and go for some sightseeing in our lovely area. Then we would come home, and I'd cook something delicious for dinner and bake something for dessert, later work on projects or do some creative writing (a venture I have been enjoying for years, but haven't had the chance to share with you just yet).
Here was when I realized that I'm no longer single, in control of my time and plans, but part of a couple. I grew addicted to schedules, to-do lists and satisfaction with accomplishing as much as I possibly can. My husband, on the other hand, is an easy going, laid-back and take-it-slow type of person. I noticed this in the time when we were just getting to know each other, of course, but it became much more evident now. Several times I said to my husband in amazement, "with you, time just slips away so fast! I don't know how it happens!"
I must admit that old habits die hard, and it isn't easy to stop glancing at the watch every few minutes. It isn't easy to stop telling myself, "time is slipping away, and we haven't done anything yet! What a waste!"
I suppose I could be nervous and anxious. I could be frustrated because my husband never hurries, no matter how late we are; I could eat my fingernails because we rarely accomplish what we planned for a given amount of time. But something in my heart tells me it wouldn't be the best choice.
Instead, I choose to love and accept the person my husband is. I choose to accept the fact that none of us is perfect, and that both of us are two completely different people who are, still, just getting to know each other. And I choose to drink in the beauty of slow days and evenings spent together, days on which not much is accomplished but so much is shared and enjoyed together.