Sunday afternoon was especially lazy here at the House of Antique. It was cloudy and gray and cold outside, which suited my mood. It was a perfect day for turning inward, shutting the world away and hanging out with my small tribe.
I sat at my desk in the kitchen simultaneously watching Sean play in the den while I half-heartedly read email and tried not Google glycosuria.
“Mom,” he called to me, “come in here and play pirate with me.”
I did not want to play pirate. I wanted to sit at my desk and nurse my anxieties. I wanted to stew and worry about what might happen in the coming week.
“Well, I don’t really know how to be a pirate,” I said, hoping he’d ask his father instead, who without question would make a much better pirate.
But he would not be dissuaded.
“C’mon mom, I’ll teach you!”
“Oh? Is there some sort of pirate training that you offer?”
“You don’t need any training!” he said rather scornfully, “You just walk like a pirate, you just act like a pirate – you just BE a pirate!”
That was the best advice I had heard all day.
At that moment, I vowed that I would not allow future worries to rob me of present joy. I closed the lid to my laptop. I walked away from my desk and my future worries and into the den to be a pirate.
In the coming week I will walk like someone who has her stuff together, I will act like someone who has her stuff together – and maybe, just maybe, I might just BE someone who has her stuff together.
And if I can’t pull that off, then I’ll just walk like a pirate.