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In the calm hours of dawn, the past beckons to me.

It urges me to mourn the rush, the hustle, the frantic pace.

It calls out to me.

It pleads for me to miss the schedule and the tension that proved I was making something of life.

It reminds me that the stress provided structure and the responsibilities resulted in productivity.

As I sip my coffee and listen to the frogs, I’ll wonder if I’m just crazy, or if I’ve actually found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

I’ll ask myself, ”What exactly am I doing here?”

I’ll finish my cup of fuel, brush my teeth, and embark on my daily walk.

I’ll see puddles and cardinals and passersby.  I’ll listen to the cicadas and the splashes of tires hitting wet pavement.  I’ll ignore the pleading from the past.

I’ll do some laundry, read a book, and throw a ball for the dogs.  I’ll ignore the nagging of the past hustle.

The day will eventually dwindle, and I’ll sit on the porch in the sticky summer night. 

I’ll wonder what I accomplished today.  And then, I’ll remember…

I lived.  I loved all of my people.  And I smiled.

And that will be enough. ❤️

Be grateful, water your own grass,

…and drink coffee.

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