Mondays have been our busiest evening this fall. Maxine has soccer practice at the northwest corner of Arlington, followed by a piano lesson in Falls Church.
I rush to get dinner ready early so she and I can eat and be out the door by 5:40. She sheds her jewelry and puts on her cleats as we near the fields, and after I swing into a parking space, take a swig of water, and hit the outdoor run workout on my watch, I head off toward the gently rolling, heavily tree-canopied roads of the toney neighborhood.
I try to hit 4.5 miles before I step onto the edge of the soccer field and beckon to Maxine 10 minutes before practice is over so we can rush to her lesson and arrive about 10 minutes late. I figure it’s fair to split the difference between the two. I’ve always equally respected athletics and music, and this exacting split satisfies this notion.
After an hour sitting in the piano studio lobby, usually reading or working on my laptop, she emerges and we head home, arriving close to 8:30. I’m usually feeling pretty ready for bed at this point.
This evening, as we were about to make the 25-minute drive to soccer practice, dark clouds gathered, the wind picked up, and rain began to fall. It took me about two seconds to decide to skip soccer. I texted a friend and fellow piano parent and took her up on her earlier offer to take Maxine to piano (our kids have been part of a group piano lesson since they were preschoolers).
Suddenly, my evening stretched out gracefully in front of me. I seized on it. I did a HIIT workout, showered, heated up a bowl of homemade potato soup, and then tucked into my book. I owe it all to the rain I hear pitter-pattering in a steady beat on the skylights right now (and my piano mom friend).
My Corner of the Village 