the pause: a love letter

Hello you,

I’m writing to you, tonight, from my living room. I’ve been here a lot, this week, spending all of my spare minutes working on a magazine story. I’d tell you more, but it’s my first one, and I’m not sure what I’m allowed to say. Anyway, I’m here. Again.

I slid the coffee table I love right up to the blue couch that I hate and let my fingers dance across the keyboard, like I’ve been doing since returning from the Grand Canyon, but this time with a little less pressure. This time, I get to stop mid-sentence and go do, well, anything, really. That seems to be the weekend theme.

Yesterday morning, I stopped mid-laundry to go for a run. I stopped my run to hop in a friend’s Jeep. I mowed half of my yard because a patio sounded better. Also, I nicked my foot with the weed eater, but I probably would have stopped anyway. Sunshine, tequila, and all that.

Just a few minutes ago, I got home from an afternoon adventure walk with a friend that we paused halfway through because he remembered a PowWow happening nearby. And now, I’m pausing between sentences to give these sweet pups that I’m watching some intermittent head rubs.

I suppose what I’m saying is that there is something to be said for embracing the pause.

I’m known to be a busy person - a disposition that earned me the childhood nickname Scooterbell. As a child, it was amusing. Charming, at times, even. As an adult, though, it’s frenzied and too much coffee gets spilled. I run into walls, trip over my feet, get tangled in my sports bras. I wish I could say that this is hyperbolic talk, but it’s just truth.

There isn’t much time left in this holiday weekend, and I could sit here on my dreadful couch and continue to ramble, but I’ll press pause, for now, and enjoy the slower pace for just a little while longer.

With love always,


Adi