A Different Kind of Meditation

After a hard day at work, feeling sick and enervated, I nevertheless tell myself that I am duty-bound to meditate.

But fatigue overtakes me as I sit on the couch with our dogs while my husband reads.

Between the page-turning, we make desultory conversation about our respective childhoods and hopes for the future.

Will our children marry? What joy and pains await them?

And I suddenly feel very at peace and secure in my family.

The roles are subtly shifting. Last night one of our sons called us to see whether we were safe and secure as a sizable storm moved up the East coast.

This was the baby I nursed, now nurturing me.

This change does not feel frightening.

It feels blessed.

Maybe there is more than one way to meditate.

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