Like molasses in winter

It's hot!  Whew!  This afternoon I walked to the grocery for my lunch and the air is dense.  I can feel it settle around me like a sheet just out of the dryer.  Pretty nice, for a minute or two, but kind of suffocating after that.  Still, there is something I love about all this hotness, and that's the pace of things, or more aptly, MY pace of things.  I am moving slow.

I always thought that moving slowly meant lazy, or without purpose.  Boy, was I wrong.  I'm discovering that moving more slowly has everything do with being purposeful.  Concentrating on one thing at a time sure is nice.  I love it that taking the time to do things right is appreciated by the people I see daily while at the same time making my life less stressful.  Having my undivided attention makes others feel good, which in turn makes me feel damn good!  Keeping a moderate pace is my new mantra (but will not become a new tattoo).

This morning, I passed my son going the opposite direction down the highway, each of us to our respective worksites.  He was riding his new motorcycle.  Well, new to him; it was "pre-owned."  I know I should be worried about him riding it, don't get me wrong, I am.  Like any Mom, I quizzed him on having his helmet, a good jacket and boots, and insurance.  Thoughts of, "will he drive too fast? what if someone doesn't see him?" and a myriad of more what ifs are on my mind throughout the day.  But to balance that is to see the absolute joy on his face when he talks about riding.  He stood in my living room, helmet in hand, looking out the window and said, "Isn't she pretty?" like that bike was a new girlfriend.

the new boss is not the same as the old boss

I know it is hard at age 22 to take anything slow.  But I hope my son finds that slow is the way to go.