My Perfect Day

In Mind by BreeLeave a Comment

When I close my eyes to dream up my perfect day, it feels more like falling awake than falling asleep. It’s as if I meet myself somewhere between a dream and reality. A place where nightmare isn’t a word and the feeling of safety and love surrounds you. My perfect day feels like being loved with too many commas and absolutely no asterisks.

My perfect day feels like that moment you step into the sun after you’ve been freezing. It sounds like my favorite songs came together to birth this soundtrack that my heart beats to. It tastes like pineapple straight from the source and smells like a fresh pile of laundry from my childhood.

I would wake up before the sun. Before anyone. In the dawn before the day where the time is mine and I don’t belong to anyone but myself. I’d pour a cup of coffee and watch closely as the steam melted into the air. I’d grab my mala, notebook, and fresh cup of coffee and I’d sit alone on my mat.

I’d allow myself to notice things. Things that I move through this world without seeing. Like the nose prints on the front windows from the days Mika anxiously awaits my return, perched on the back of the couch like a dog who is convinced she’s a cat. I’d let that small little nose print. That thing that I’ve missed. I’d allow that thing to shatter me for a moment.

To let the beauty seep in. To sit with it. To feel what it’s like to not miss things. I’d close my eyes and I’d continue to breath. I’d breath into the areas that hurt, even if it’s not a space anyone could ever touch. I’d tell my heart that I’m grateful that it beats and I would do my best to listen for each thump. I’d thank my brain for the thoughts in delivers, but ask that it store them to be opened later. As I inhale and exhale for each bead on my mala, I would witness that breath becoming light that would surround me in my day. I’d exhale the “should have’s” and “could have’s”.

I’d sink into my knowing and allow fear to exist, but never for more than 20 seconds. I’d be stirred back into reality by the sounds of other humans rustling in the house. A subtle reminder that I’m never alone.

I’d make Bonnie a cup of coffee and we’d lay in bed with two extra humans and one almost-human. We’d watch the news for 15 minutes before we start our morning routines.

Lunches would be made over banter about whether unicorns are real and we’d eat breakfast while we finish up math homework. We’d all dance through the kitchen in the moments before we all go our separate ways. There would be “I love yous” and squeezes given as my Perfect Day continues.

Next I’d find myself on the court that’s been my most steadfast therapist for 19 years. I’d turn the volume to 100, lace up my shoes, and step onto the battlefield. The place where I’ve been the winner and the loser. Then I would get lost in the kind of thoughts that spark movements. I’d let my feet tell the story of where I’ve been and I’d allow my body to guide me where I should be next. I wouldn’t have to think about much. I’ve been here enough times that I can trust that I know what to do.

After my shirt is soaked and my knees tell me enough, I’d find myself in a weight room proving time and time again that I am capable of more. That I can carry a weight I never expected, and that sometimes the best thing to do is to set that weight down.

As the water hits my face I’d set some sort of intention for the day. I’d allow my brain to deliver all of the messages it’s taken while I was out. I’d figure out the next right thing to do and then I’d do it. I’d get everything done that I needed to. I’d connect with other humans because no day was meant to be spent in solitude. I’d say hello to the people who serve me coffee and I’d look them straight in the eye while I do it. I’d see that one person I’ve seen 4 other times that week, except this time I’d stop and I’d introduce myself.

Because I think we’ve forgotten that we can expand our circle, but sometimes you have to go first. I’d find myself in a new conversation at least 5 times.

There would be music, and laughter—ohh, the laughter—there would be inside jokes and photos that only I can go back and understand. In the midst of some coffee shop, or in a parking lot, or some crowded isle when inspiration hits…I’d listen. I’d drop what I was doing and write. Or share. Or take a photo. I’d let inspiration drag me into that space where the outside world falls away.

An hour later I’d come up for air and be looking at something I’m proud of. Art, words, color, sound, video. Whatever I might be looking at would give me that feeling that the world needs what I’ve got and I know from that workout at the gym that I can lift the weight that comes with sharing your art.

So I would. I’d share another piece of my soul. I’d publish it and then I’d walk away as I realize I might be five minutes late to gymnastics…or ballet…or whatever it is that the kids might have that day where I can show up and be there for them the way my parents always showed up.

I’d watch as Madeleine smiles into the bleachers with that smile that shows me she’s so proud to have me watch her. Isa would do that thing she does when all the sudden she kisses your cheek. Not for any reason. But just because she wants to show you, in her Isa way, that she’s there and she cares.

We’d make our way to the car where we’d spend the entire ride home belting out the latest movie soundtrack. I’d channel my inner Elsa and promise the girls that things might be frozen, but that love can thaw anything.

At home, the house would fill with the smell of a nutritious dinner that I know Bonnie cooked love into. We’d eat and we’d laugh more. We’d laugh ourselves through showers and brushing teeth. Then we’d all pile into one bed and start reading the next chapter of the latest adventure on the shelf. I’d find that silly childlike voice as I read. The ones that show kids it’s ok to dream up what characters sound like and to emphasize the way things are written.

They’d drift off before it was over and I’d look up to tears that I know would be in Bonnie’s eyes because sometimes love overflows from that woman and it makes me love her more. We’d leave the room and pour a glass of red wine and we’d sit on the couch and talk. We’d be.

We’d create that safe space for each other to feel and to share. We would talk and talk and then realize that we’ve said enough and now we just need to sink into each other. We’d make our way to our bed. Our cloud. Our dream. Our piece of the world that will wrap us up and keep us warm and safe as we drift into another perfect day.

If you had to dream up your perfect day, what would it look like?

🚀 Bree Pear

What’s Your Perfect Day?

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