is me after a crazy day of rushing here, rushing there, always with a seemingly enormous crowd of uncooperative children and always with a sense of urgency about what I was doing as 527 other things raced through my head.
But I have landed. I am home. The shoes that were lost and screamed about earlier today are now forgotten. The tiny bodies that cried and fought and ate and spilled and got sticky and needed diaper changes at the most inopportune times are now clean and sleeping in their beds.
Some days are like this. But it’s days like these that make the coming home, the quiet, the stillness, and the chance to breathe sweeter still.
“Why do we run?” my high school cross country coach used to shout at the team of us as we sprinted through the streets.
“Because it feels so good to stop!” we always shouted back.
Yes it does.