Just One Hour of Peace
I would like just one hour of peace today. One hour, and I would consider it a wealth of riches. One hour to do as I will, think as I like, silence, contentment, and peace of mind. Well-being and utter joy. Not one ounce of boredom, not a smidgeon of anxiety, no stress, no tension, no angry thoughts. No voice but my own, no demands for my listening ear or for my bravely, boredly, barely painted-on smiles.
For just one hour, I do not want to have to worry about other people’s feelings or plans or needs for attention. I do not want to be the one maintaining the cheerful outlook, the one tolerating the bad moods or unreasonable demands, the one who is always there, doors wide open, though truly I have no doors. Just one hour. That is all that I ask.
Just one hour, where I can quietly think my thoughts and develop ideas, perhaps draft an entry for this ill-kept journal. Just one hour to do one or more of the many million things on my list of things to do. I do not want to listen to all the things I should be doing for myself; I want the time to do them. Just one hour. That is all that I ask.
One hour is hardly much. Just a drop in the bucket really. Barely noticeable. My daily commute used to be three times as long, so in fact, I am used to much, much more. Yet all I ask is to have one hour.
Just one hour to commune with myself.
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2 thoughts on “Just One Hour of Peace”
Cousin, I find taking lengthy dumps to be the best me-time there could possibly be. You can get a lot of thinking done in an hour while s(h)itting. And the entire time, it’s all about me.
Oh, and if the urge to commune with a commode isn’t there, you could still take advantage and lock the door, read, write, whatever you like. The "drop in the bucket" really is optional. Light a candle or two. It’s divine.
C.Z.
Now why didn’t I think of that? Calgon, take me away!
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