A Slower Life Sets You Free

No rush.

It was eight in the morning, and I had time for a stroll in the park with my friend. Talking about our daughters and their friendship, our goals and plans in life.

I felt free.

I went home to tidy up and take a look at my schedule. After that, I hopped on my bike and went to the Literature House to rise and shine there as a volunteer.

My legs lead me on my way. Too bad, I forgot where to turn.

So, I got lost.

But I felt no rush to be there on time. They always understand if I’m late. I guess the fact that I’m almost always late helps. No questions, just trust.

Even though it was windy as duck, I had time to stop by and take a picture of a bench.

It’s a weird bench next to a lake.

Sometimes is nice to get lost.

So, I biked sixteen kilometers when I finally arrived at the church — the Literature House is based in an old church.

I felt light.

Had a little chat with others about the day. We had four customers and plenty of time to read. As I passed by the books, my eyes fell on James Baldwin. Go Tell it on the Mountain, he said, so I read it in my favourite rocking chair.

Someone entered.

A young man came into the café, and I saw he was hesitating about asking me. I looked at him, only asking with my eyes and an encouraging smile. Fortunately, he understood. He wanted to rest with a book before the coffee. Still standing in a strange posture but relaxed after I nodded and gave him a glass of water. Why would it be a problem? We both read a book in silence.

Later, all his friends arrived, and they had coffee. The books had to go.

Another volunteer came back from shopping for the social dining event. We chopped all the veggies.

I don’t know how to put it in words.

I like to be around those calm people. I carefully cut the potato into small pieces. Every piece had a unique shape and size. Just how I like it. It took me long, very long. No one criticized me for being slow. I cut the cabbage real thin, like noodles.

Meanwhile, people on the couch were having a talk about art. We didn’t have small talk during the cooking until I finished my shift.

It was time to hop on the bike again and pick up my daughter and three other kids. Not as I steal kids. My daughter's friend wanted to come home with me, so I thought, why not take the neighbour's kid also?

I called the parents for approval, and they were happy that I could help them out. We walked home through the park with the girls. They were talking and playing.

I was listening to them.

They were so raw and lovely. I wish more adults could have the same conversations. At five o’clock, everyone was home safely.

I sense freedom.

All I need is an income to keep this going.

Thank you for reading!

The Witty Witch