My alarm clock was particularly jarring when it went off this morning. Not because it woke me up out of a sound sleep – I was actually already awake – but because I hardly ever hear it anymore. Since my husband retired and we moved to Georgia a month ago, there have been only a few times when we’ve even set our alarm clock.
This morning, it was because we were expecting a delivery that was scheduled for early in the day, and we wanted to make sure we were up and dressed by then. We normally are anyway, but didn’t want to take a chance of oversleeping.
It got me thinking, though, about something that’s been nagging at me. It’s a sense of not quite having my bearings yet, of not feeling quite settled. This isn’t related to being in a new environment and not knowing my way around town. It’s more about not having the structure to my day that I used to, the kind that starts when the alarm clock goes off and I begin my morning routine, which then leads into the rest of the day.
The funny thing, I now realize, is that I do have a structure to my day. It just happens to be a new one, and it doesn’t start with my alarm clock going off. Instead, it starts when we wake up naturally. We then go to the health club and work out on most days, and we discuss our plans for the day as we’re driving back home. Right now those plans still include a lot of “moving in” projects and tasks. Later on they will change into different types of errands and activities. I plan for my schedule to include more of the writing I’ve always enjoyed, as well as other professional and personal endeavors that have been on hold while we relocated.
A thought that popped into my head just now is a question I come across every so often: “How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were?” An interesting variation of that, and one that’s more relevant to me right now, is, “What time would it be if you didn’t know what time it was?”
It might be time to get up, or time to go to sleep. It could be time to eat, time to work, or time to go out and get some fresh air and sunshine. Time to pray, time to do laundry, or time to write my blog.
Even though my time is still filled with day-to-day activities, “clock time” isn’t as important to me as it used to be. Now that I can see and acknowledge that, I’m pretty sure I’ll start feeling more settled and at home here.
I’d say it’s about time.
April 7, 2017
©Betty Liedtke, 2017
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