When I was a young teen looking for an escape, I would lie on my trampoline and search out satellites in the dark nighttime sky. Following them with my eyes, I would watch them slowly trace around my world, never skipping a beat. When I was a young adult, I had to sell my trampoline. Life sped up and no longer could I lay and inspect my life and all the interesting things that filled it from its black, comforting mat. I forgot what the stars looked like, and I missed visually painting portraits in the clouds.

Life got crazy. I had to make decisions that were all my own. I no longer had time to make tea and wait for it to cool. I was forced to burn my tongue instead. It was as if I was sitting on a merry go round that people and things in my life were spinning for me. Life became blurred. Even though I no longer have the comfort of my trampoline to perch myself on and examine the intricate details of my new, crazy world, I decided and wearily stepped off the merry go round and took a deep breath.

When I woke up this morning, I laid in my bed for ten minutes before I got up. I cooked my eggs on low and I listened to the spring birds tell their stories from the winter. I laid out my clothes before I put them on and tied my laces tight. I wrote down my wishes for the day and made promises to myself. I did not rush through yellow lights. I waited and did not smear the ink that just needed time dry. I felt the cold air bite my ears and turn my nose pink, I laughed with my friends and cried to my long distance mother. Today I again viewed my life in slow, small and detailed ways. Today I remembered I believe in taking my time.