Most mornings, I’m a model of productivity. I get up early, make coffee, and I’m typically at my computer by 5:30 a.m. I get important work done, make a to-do list for my day, and fit a workout in before my kids get up. I eat a healthy breakfast, get the kids off to school, and then it’s back to work. In other words, I have a good morning routine.
Impromptu snowball fight!
However, by the time the sun sets, things typically start unraveling. By the time the kids get to bed, I’m usually exhausted and default to beer and Netflix. Often I complete the gluttonous trifecta with a salty snack. It’s pretty obvious: My evening routine, if you want to call it that, is lacking.
When she’s outside, she’s light and carefree—still determined and competitive but playful. When I say outside, I don’t mean in the backyard or at the local playground. She’s at her best in forests, on sand dunes, and in other wide open spaces.
It’s like she’s breathing in contentment, and breathing out frustration, as she navigates trails, races down the ski hill or ambles along the beach hunting rocks at the edge of the surf. This brings Heather and I great pleasure. It’s exactly the sort of transformation we sought when we made the decision to uproot everything in search of a slower, meaningful, purposeful and intentional life.
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