Rest

Rest.  I love it, and I hate it.  Perhaps I'm infatuated with both the word and the concept of rest.  Yet, it seems that I can never quite commit myself, even for a short time, to his allure.  

Weekends come and I fantasize of spending time with him.  We'll read a book together, take in a movie on the couch.  Or better yet, we'll stroll along the beach, arm in arm at sunset.  But what do I end up filling my weekends with?  Chores.  Productivity.  Errands.  My checklist on Sunday afternoon is filled with marks of accomplishment, yet I feel a twinkle of guilt realizing that I've left Rest behind.

The weekday evenings are open opportunities, I tell myself.  I'll make sure to engage with Rest at some point then.  Perhaps we'll sit with a cup of tea outside on the deck.  We can take a stroll around the park with the dog, sit at a bench and watch some children play.  Even sitting outside with a blanket and watching the sky change colors at twilight would ensure that I've given Rest the attention he deserves, and set my mind at ease.  But, it doesn't happen.

Next week is my Spring Break.  Break?  Rest?  Hopefully I'll find my way back to him somehow.