I still catch myself a hundred miles away. When I come back, I'm scraping syrup soaked pancake squares into the trash. Load the dishwasher, start a load of laundry and set out dinner makings. I microwave the last inch of my coffee. It's quiet. Run upstairs and make the beds, or don't today. I'm still struggling for the balance of getting everything done, work and family-wise before the bus brings their tired little minds back to the driveway.
Backpacks on the hooks, shoes on the shelf, lunch bags unpacked. I sound like a broken record. Dinner, homework, pick up, baths and bed. I'm not very good at this yet, and though I know its good for all of us, this change is much harder than I anticipated. Trying to submit myself to the routine to even the mundane and see the beauty in the littlest moments no matter how repetitive. I've grabbed my camera when I find something that brings a little humor but mostly when I feel in the moment, when I'm really seeing. Those little spots in time where my mind is here, and now, and not a hundred miles away. Where I hope to be more often.