I was recently advised that I need to take a breather.

My whole body reacted with a “Ha!” because how is that luxury even possible? What would it look like?

And what about those delicate hourglasses that I’m juggling? All 502 of them would come crashing at my feet.

There were never that many. It just feels like 502, like the humidity impact on the heat index. It’s so humid down here!

And I’m not really juggling glass hourglasses. That’s just another feeling, like when you wake at 3 a.m. and stare at the ceiling, tossing all the impossible things that need to align.

A breather.

That would feel like stepping into crisp mountain air that doesn’t require heat index calibrations. A breather might be sleeping soundly until my bones are ready to stretch into a new day.

What if I step back and nothing comes crashing around me? What if a breather is simply that “breath of fresh air” my lungs crave?

My arms are still busy keeping my hourglasses in the air, but if I can imagine juggling 502 delicate glass objects, I can also imagine floating hourglasses, right? I can also imagine a breather.

And if one of my delicate hourglasses comes crashing down, that’s one less object to juggle when I return refreshed.

How long have you been juggling life without taking a breather? Imagine taking it. That’s a good way to begin.

©Pennie Nichols. All Rights Reserved. 2024