Taking Time.

 Like most of us my life is a constant barrage of information overload. Balancing my responsibilities at work and at home—along with creating the obligatory scholarly article and paper on Late Antiquity leaves feeling as stretched as Bilbo Baggins at the close of Return of the King (after 30 years I now understand why Bilbo and Frodo got on that boat with the elves). Recently I have added the responsibility of getting my son JD to and from school on both my work and off days. At first, I thought this new task might drive me over the edge. Fortunately, the opposite seems true.  Up at 6:30, I am greeted my son eager to head to school. This morning he was chirping letter sounds as he stuffed his backpack with a picture of a green hamburger that he thought his classmates might enjoy (composed on the back of one of my essays). My daughter Annabelle always likes to tag along, and after JD is safely in the classroom, we duck down to the local café for a blueberry muffin, espresso and “baby chino”. The two of us sit for fifteen minutes with minimal conversation, and after cleaning up the bloody remains of her muffin I drop her off, and head off to face the snarl of traffic for another hectic day at work. Though I am getting at least two hours less sleep less a night, I feel surprisingly invigorated.

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