My favourite time of day

I had a couple of important jobs to do this afternoon as I returned from op shopping for that perfect 80s rockband outfit.  Fill the car with petrol, fairly important when the empty light is on (and has been the whole trip and you live 5ks from the nearest fuel stop) and collect that form you've promised the committee you'll post off on their behalf. Yet I found myself turning off, heading for home. I'd been arguing with myself for the last 10kms, do what's expected of me or what intuition says I need. Intuition won out, once it never would have, but these days things are different. I'm learning to listen to what I need, not what I SHOULD do. The interesting thing is, often by doing what I need things turn out better!  Instead of rushing and being stressed I'll take the extra few minutes to finish something (probably last night dishes) only to find the friend is running late too!  So instead of being on time, disorganised and frustrated I find all is in place within my world. Nice!

Upon arriving home, with the place empty, no phone calls needinf replies, no unexpected visitors, I wondered why intuition had sent me home. Then I realised, this is my favourite time of day and if I had done 'my jobs' I would have missed it.

The sun is shining but the shadows are quickly creeping across the lawn reminding me to enjoy every moment as it won't be long before the cool and dark have me scampering in beside the fire. The flowers in my garden dance reminding me to appreciate them because tomorrow they may be a puddle of petals on the ground. The birds sing, reminding me that spring is on its way, but they too, soon, will shut down for the night, prepare the food, and get ready to farewell another of their days.

I don't have a great memory, in fact I have very few memories from before I turned eight. At times I'm not even sure which are memories and which are known stories shared by family. But one memory I'm sure of (and don't anybody dispute me!) occurred at this time of day. I remember sitting on my mothers knee, with the late summer sun in the sky and the evening air just beginning to cool. We sat there, together, laughing and sharing the joy of sisters around me.  I see them showing Mum their latest cartwheeling skills. I see Mum's bare arms and legs poking out from under her summer dress, possibly one she sewed herself. The grass was short; to this day the smell of mown lawn sends happy shingles down my spine. We were waiting for Dad to return from his days away, 'up bush'. But it wasn't the anticipation of Dad's return that I remember, it was the joy of sitting on my mother's knee, hearing laughter around me, no one worrying about what had to be or should be done, just a family simply sharing time.