Routine

When I was growing up I watched my mother who was born in the 10th year of the 20th Century, do the same thing every day. Probably much the same (with different specifics) as her mother before her.  My mother got up, fixed breakfast, worked around the house (cleaning, sewing, cooking), fixed lunch, worked around the house (cleaning, sewing, cooking), fixed dinner, sat in the living room watching TV and sewing, went to bed and repeated everything the next day. At least this is what it looked like to me - a routine occasionally punctuated with trips to the grocery, church, getting her hair done, visiting relatives or other things that bored me to death. Where was the excitement? Where was the newness? How could anyone possibly be happy with a routine life. And when I asked her about doing something novel, she'd say "later." Over time I stopped asking. She had made her choice.

Fast forward 40+ years and I find myself doing exactly what she did but with my own set of 21st Century activities. I can't easily visit relatives since they are all either deceased or disbursed around the country. And when something threatens to break my routine, I often say, "later." My routine is my meditation. I wonder if hers was too?