I am extremely selfish with my time; it is my most valuable resource. This weekend it was largely dedicated to a boy, a well-behaved cute and cuddly 6 year old who we were minding. He took our attention, all of it, from when we opened our eyes until we closed them. He was a treasure but he was work; spot the child-free couple. His parents picked him up yesterday afternoon, and left as a blizzard settled in. Peace descended as the wind flung the snow around our yard. My boyfriend lowered the flag pole waving the Donegal yellow and green and we curled up on the couch. We could not see past our front porch, let alone the highway. The whiteness crept closer and closer. Twitter told us all roads in Southern Alberta were closed. We were fine. We were happy to be stuck home, alone.
The wind had settled when we awoke, the ground was white, there were no signs of the storm, just strange banks of snow oddly placed by the fierce wind. The snowploughs had the highway cleared. Traffic sped by at usual speed. I itched for me time. I went to work unsettled. I sought my escape with a trip to the city; my favourite cafe, a book, alone with strangers. My boyfriend said he was coming. I fought. He didn’t. He wasn’t letting me drive with conditions threatening to worsen. I missed my single life, my ability to come and go as I pleased, getting lost inside my own home and my own head on a weekend. Free to come, free to go.
I explained my need; he packed his bike. I sit warm and cosy with a blueberry bran muffin and a latte. He is somewhere on his bike. I wonder on his goodness. He is giving his time to give me me-time. How generous he is.