Pressing Stop

I am sitting in a car, alone, in Brooklyn, while my kids have an hour-long piano lesson.

Anything strange about this picture? Brooklyn? Perhaps, since most of the time, piano lessons are in the sock-feet comfort of our own home. Alone? That too, since, most of the time, if it's not during school hours, it is rare for me to be alone. The car? Well, maybe, since I am certainly a person who appreciates public transportation. But what I am thinking about is the sitting.

Normally, an hour when my kids are at an activity would be filled, end to end, with whatever I could possibly accomplish. Today, I dropped them off and pressed "stop." Now, that may have been a product of time considerations on the back end. I couldn't afford to be late retrieving them, because we have a destination to race to after. And it may have been reaction to the miles worth of walking errands I did yesterday. But, whatever the reason, it felt good to press "stop." "Stop" means I can write this blog before I'm too wiped out to think. "Stop" means that I am taking time for myself, rather than giving over every ounce of time doing for everyone else. "Stop" means acknowledging that processing can be as important as doing.

Once I press "go" again, when the kids are done and we race to our next commitment, I'm sure I will remember something that I could have done for this hour. But that will be then, and it will be too late. I will have had my "stop" time, and the "something" will get done another way, even if that means I'll be racing tomorrow.

And my letting myself "stop," just for an hour, will have made it all worth it.