Finally the end of a jam-packed day.
I am exhausted, to say the least. Worn out from so many hours of being "on" - of being in charge - of people looking to me for leadership - of counting under my breath as I sightread - of mouthing the words to myself and making mental notes of vowels and consonants to correct - of trying to play and listen at the same time, so as to have some sort of constructive feedback to give when all eyes turn to me, as they inevitably will.
I've stayed late to coach 2 more singers, and thankfully, one of them brings some reciprocal energy to give me an added boost to make it in the last hour.
But now I am spent. Ready to go home and crawl in my bed, and feel the heavenly sensation of something softer than the unforgiving wood of a piano bench underneath me.
And then it hits me.
It's Wednesday.
Wednesday. As in, the day I'm supposed to pick up my dry-cleaning.
Let me pause here to say that it's a miracle I even found the time to TAKE something to the cleaner's - and that when I took it in, I had a voice in the back of my head that said, "It will be Christmas by the time you actually remember that you have something to pick up when you actually have a spare moment to pick it up."
My body protests. Can't you go to tomorrow? Nope, I've got coachings until 9pm. What about Friday? Nope, headed to Seattle after work, so I'll want to leave as soon as possible so as to hit the pass at a reasonable hour.
It has to be today. It has to be now.
Suzie is her name. My dry-cleaner, that is. She is about my height, and all legs - with a stoop in her shoulder and a long sweater that hangs loosely on her frame. She is sweeping the floor when I come it, and it takes her a little while to realize that I am standing at the counter. She's just a wee bit hard of hearing. I tell (read: "yell") her my name, as her eyes peer up at me over the rims of her glasses. I spell it 3 more times, and finally, she gets it. She jots down the number and shuffles into the corner. After a minute or two of searching, she's found my dress. As she puts it on the rack next to me, she makes sure to remind me to be careful when carrying it. The plastic bag is just about as tall as I am, and she doesn't want me to catch my foot on it and slip.
I wait as she tinkers with the cash register, trying to process my credit card. It takes her a few tries, but finally, the receipt prints, and she holds it down as I sign it. As I hand it back to her, she smiles, and with all the sincerity her sweet, gangly self can muster up, she says, "Now you have a lovely evening."
As far as location goes, Suzie's shop is convenient. It's not too terribly far out of my way on my drive home from work. As far as cost and efficiency go, it's probably not the most competitive. Meaning, I'm paying more for my dry-cleaning than I ever have in my life.
In fact, the thought of going elsewhere has crossed my mind more than once.
But as I stand there, watching Suzie shuffle around, digging through racks and racks of clothing, I realize that after a day of going, going, going, I am being forced to stop. Slow my hurried pace. Just...be. Breathe.
Sometimes, it takes a full day of rest for me to really breathe deeply.
Sometimes, it takes a morning hike in the wilderness.
Sometimes, it takes an afternoon curled up with my journal by the fire.
And sometimes, it takes 5 minutes in a dry-cleaning shop.
Sometimes it's scary to stop.
Sometimes we're afraid that the load we've been carting around (you know, the one we're in a wee bit of denial about) will slam into us from behind.
Sometimes we're worried that if we don't hurry along, we'll fall behind.
The world around us prizes convenience and efficiency. The world around us glorifies busy-ness. The world around us says, "you are what you do."
But as I stand in that little shop at 7:00 on a Wednesday evening, the voice (of truth) inside of me says, "You have a more than a few things to learn from this woman."
She's not in a hurry, and she assumes you aren't either.
There is time.
There is time to have a real conversation.
There is time to take care with your work.
There is time for deep breaths.
There is time for simple kindness.
There is time to look another in the eyes and exchange mercy.
Photo Credit: Chinwe Edeani www.photosbychinwe.tumblr.com
