Dance All Day, Fiddle All Night-- Oh wait, that's not right...

The other day I suddenly remembered a neighbor who lived across the street from my childhood home. Her yard was always mowed, her hedge always trimmed; I'd see her husband out in the yard often. Every morning I'd see her step out on her front stoop and shake one or two throw rugs-- which was my introduction to the idea of shaking rugs.

I can't remember if I ever saw the inside of her house, but I know from looking at the outside-- and at the garage, where sometimes I played with her daughter-- that it was clean and orderly.

So I know she worked hard and well. She was not lazy.

But every evening, after the time of the evening meal, she would appear outside with a lawn chair. She would sit by the open garage door, on the driveway, with an extra, empty chair beside her, an open invitation to anyone who wanted to come visit. Just sitting, enjoying the evening. Often I'd see other neighbors (including my mother) join her. When it began to get dark, she folded up her chairs and went inside.

I can feel the peace and satisfaction. A day's work done. The home in order. The well-earned time to "sit a spell." And NO GUILT (real or imagined).

I like that picture. In fact, I want to LIVE that picture.