A few months ago during one of our weekly library trips, Austin perused the new nonfiction section and brought home “Why We Sleep” by Matthew Walker. For the next few weeks, I was bombarded with all kinds of sleep knowledge, some of which I would rather not have known.
During the summer when I was a kid, my yard served as the neighborhood gathering place. Kickball, softball, volleyball, dodgeball—you name it, we played it. I spent all my waking hours outside soaking up the sun. A dip in the pool, some basketball in the driveway, twirling baton in the yard, riding bikes down the road, catching fireflies at night. I had no time to waste inside.
When I sat down to write this, I was two paragraphs into a story about how much I love pizza and ate it almost every day while on vacation when my phone buzzed with sad news of my boyfriend’s grandmother’s passing.
With the start of each new year, we make resolutions. We say that this year will be the year that we stick to our plans. But what are we resolving to do? Is it another lousy attempt at getting fit and healthy? Is it a half-hearted approach at learning a new skill?
When I was growing up, I always had a long list of things I wanted for Christmas. I’d start mentioning gifts I wanted in October, hoping that the news would make its way to Santa. When I got older, it didn’t stop. It may have gotten worse.