My son left for Alaska this morning. Two weeks of sharing my home, baking many pies and biscuits, hiking, biking, laughs, and projects. With so much to fit in, downgrading the importance of things that usually matter me was required; a major readjustment of my predicable life. I kept things picked up barely enough, team efforts to tackle dishes and meals, no vacuuming or dusting, and quick bathroom wipe downs. How different to have to consider someone other than myself for that length of time; taking into consideration what he wanted to do, eat, or watch on TV, and when he wanted to get up and get going. Now quiet, calm, plenty of time; back to where I started before he came. Nothing wrong with a quiet life or a busy one, but important to have some of each so I don’t get so set in my ways or become so inflexible I can’t easily switch gears, or let the lack of one, bother the other. My life, quiet or noisy, calm or busy, somewhat empty or very full, settled in or changing, it’s mine to do with as I wish. Not willy-nilly floating along, but purposeful and meaningful.