This weekend, I lived Saturday on Saturday, and Sunday on Sunday. For that, I feel very proud of myself.
Well, Yvette, you might say, what's the big deal? Doesn't everyone do that? Maybe. Maybe not. I didn't always. I have lived Sunday on Saturday, or Friday on Thursday. Worse yet, I have lived Thursday on Monday, Thursday needing planning, and Monday being merely the execution of a rehearsed and ordered model set in place days before and unfolding as it more or less should. Multi-tasking, if you will, or making Wednesday's supper while preparing the evening meal.
So, what happened? The story began in December, when I ordered tickets for Globe Theatre's Pride and Prejudice. I love the story, having seen both the Ehle-Firth and Knightley-Macfayden versions several times. My children once gave me tickets to a live production in Edmonton for my birthday. Yes, weather in March is a crap-shoot, but why not take the chance? I shocked the waiter at Beer Brothers, asking for a reservation in March. He had to start a new book. I even booked a hotel room, so we could make a weekend of it, and not have to drive home in the deep night. I had a lot invested in this weekend.
Fast forward three months. Why was I not surprised when the forecast predicted sun for Saturday, and 10 - 20 cm of snow for Sunday? Subtext: We would make it in to Regina for the performance; getting home might be a challenge. When I was younger, I would have fretted about this. I would have checked the weather several times each day, hoping the screen might read differently. In doing that, I would have set myself up for losing not only Saturday, whether or not I was actually there, but also many hours of the days before.
I surprised myself.
Well cognizant of the potential challenges of getting home on Sunday, we drove into town on Saturday. We stocked up on organic rice chips and unsulphured dried fruit from the organic supermarket. We strolled through Chapters. I took notes on titles I could afford to get from the library, mostly teen fiction to keep up with what kids are reading. Paging through the table of contents of Jared Diamond's new book, and walking around with Mitch Albom's The Timekeeper for a while, I finally settled on two must-haves, Room by Emma Donahue, and Tenth of December, a collection of short stories by George Saunders. I people watched at Starbucks over hot chocolate.
After checking in to the hotel near the theatre, we strolled to the mall. I never go into the city without a list, and this was no exception. I needed martini glasses and a superfine cheese grater for salad. Done. Now, time for dinner, and then the theatre. Just a delightful day.
I tasted the day, savoured every second, smelled the bouquet, and swirled each sip in my mouth like a good wine.
We left early in the morning, before too much of the snow would have accumulated. The Department of Highways had been out already. Visibility was decent. Tiny snowdrifts were beginning to form on the shoulder, some oozing onto the road. We had to slow down to navigate build-up on the curves and in sheltered areas. A few kilometers out of the city, however, I knew we would make it home safely. But then, I had the trump card--Elmer was driving.
We aren't foolhardy. Had conditions been unsafe, or the highway closed, we were prepared to spend the day in the city. I had brought my computer, and some work, and we had lots of books. We could have spent the day in the library, or in a coffee shop, waiting out the storm, or visiting friends, even staying the night if we had to. Monday could take of itself, too.
Eckhart Tolle would be proud. I lived Saturday on Saturday and Sunday on Sunday. I lived in the now. Rather than giving in to what might happen and letting fear get the better of me, I accepted what came and dealt with the reality. That is real growth for me, and the thought of it makes me smile.