I get up early, but not early enough. Never early enough. There simply aren't enough hours in the day to do everything I want and need to do. I know I'm not alone in that. We've created a world of moments that fill up too much space and we never seem satisfied until our moments overflow and run out all over the floor in a mess of chaos.
I fix my coffee and walk to the bottom of the stairs to call the boys down for breakfast. They groan and stretch and stomp, stiff-legged and resentful, down. each. stair. to the chairs where their morning blankets are draped and chilled from the overnight slumber.
"Good morning," I tell them. "Did you sleep well?"
"Mmph. Flrgl." They reply.
We hug and snuggle for an all-too-brief moment before setting the breakfast table and eating together. The groggy fog lifts and we start to smile at one another, talking about our agenda for the day. It's carefully choreographed, this life. Each thirty-minute increment marked and labeled. There's little room for wiggling.
Time to eat.
Time to dress.
Time to study.
Time to learn.
Time to get a snack.
Time to hit the courts.
Time to breathe.
Time to sleep...
and then it starts all over again.
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