The gift of time

On Friday I got the rare gift of time.

As a working mother of 4, those moments when I have nothing urgent in the next moment are infrequent, to say the least.

I don’t dare complain because I suspect there will come a time when I will look back on these bustling years longingly. But when the rare gift of time passes my way, I seize it. Especially last Friday, one week after our nation began grieving 26 innocent souls.

Here’s what a few hours of freedom looked like:

1. I dropped off my kids at school only to pull one back. The two of us secretly dashed off for a cup of hot cocoa on what my good friend charmingly calls a “mental health date.” Mostly it was because this daughter is my second and the most cooperative–which means she is the one most likely to get lost in the shuffle or our busy home. A little bit, though, was because she’s my one who is 7.

2. I stopped by Pet Smart with Granola Baby because if it was up to him, we’d spend every morning ogling the “goggies” in the doggie day care.

3. Baby and I went on a 3.5-mile run, which included stops at the dry cleaner and the Jewish bookstore.

4. I made challah, and shed a few tears during the mitzvah of separating the challah.

5. I baked chocolate chip cookies, and when my kids came home from school we dashed off to the fire station to deliver them. Many fire stations this time of year are revolving doors with visitors bearing gifts. Ours, however, in a neighborhood of so many immigrants, was empty. The fire fighter greeted us with so much enthusiasm, saying that no one hardly comes to visit them. Visits, she said are what had helped pass the time between runs at her old downtown station. In exchange for cookies my kids got private tours of the fire engine.

Not a bad way to fill a little time.