How to measure a day?

What is the measure of a day? When it comes to an end...or maybe a middle. Do you seek to re-capture the one from last week? Where you felt in the flow, and moved and created, and slept and completed and finished and solved? Are you struggling to be somewhere you aren't right now?

Today. Now. Why doesn't it feel like enough? And...

How do you measure it? Do you count the pieces of mangled food that have been flung to the floor? The number of paper towels it took to clean them? The belly laughs that truly brought a smile to your face, and perhaps a laugh to your own? The snuggles and hugs. The times you lifted and lowered. Lifted and lowered. Held, put down. Held, put down. Your body is aching. Your wrists are in pain. You feel broken and drained. How to refill? Do you measure today by how dry your hands are? How many times you washed and rinsed and wiped and rinsed again? How many nails are splitting and broken. How many times your eyelids fell shut. How many blocks you didn't walk. How many art projects gone untouched. How many pieces of drying clay? Do you count the checked boxes? Completed tasks? Maybe add a few more to check off? What if there are no checked boxes?

The sweet tiny books you read with another small human...for the one hundredth time. Did you find something different on the pages today? Did you take a deep breath before...any of it?

And what does it mean when you don't want to do the things you do want to do? How to make sense of it? To forgive it? To forgive yourself. To forgive the tiny human. Your partner. Your choices. When love is overflowing...and then muted. Just soft. Hard to access. Blank. I must be so tired. Time is tapping my shoulder and ticking. I seek presence to escape the ticking, yet seeking implies action or movement and I am still and stuck. So tired. I just can't.

It will pass. It always will pass. Energy awaits somewhere.