Slowly

By the time it came to the edge of the Forest, the stream had grown
up, so that it was almost a river, and, being grown-up, it did not run and jump
and sparkle along as it used to do when it was younger, but moved more
slowly. For it knew now where it was going, and it said to itself, "There
is no hurry. We shall get there some day." But all the little streams
higher up in the Forest went this way and that, quickly, eagerly, having so much
to find out before it was too late. -A.A. Milne

I read this tonight while
reading to Nate; the World of Pooh. He fell asleep before I finished the
story but I thought this first bit was enough good nature-love for a sweet boy
of five. Me, however, it just made me want to slow my life down so much
and get outside more. The weather battles me on that one. It's cold
out there. But slowing down, feels so good.

Last night I took Joey grocery shopping last night, and then we went to ice
cream. I had a yum coffee drink, Joey thought on it and decided the ice
cream chill was worth it in spite of the ice and snow on the ground. "Why
else do they sell ice cream in Winter?", he asks. We played a long, fun game of
Triominoes, one of my favorites. It was nothing but delight. I
love slow time with a kiddo or three to linger and ignore my growing list of
things to do before, well, February. Make that March.

it did not run and jump and sparkle along as it used to
do when it was younger,
but moved more slowly. For it knew now where it was
going, and it said to itself, "There is no hurry. We
shall get there
some day.