Sarala Life — Life in Chapters: Careers, Canines, Cabernet & Courage

George has decided that my primary purpose in life is to open doors for him.

Not metaphorical doors. Literal doors. Bathroom doors. Pool doors. Pantry doors. Doors that were closed for a reason.

He will sit. He will stare. He will sigh heavily, as though burdened by the incompetence of his staff.

Isabella, on the other hand, has accepted that she is royalty. She does not ask. She positions herself. Preferably in a sunbeam. Preferably on something that was not meant for dogs. Preferably after stepping on George, who accepts this as his lot in life.

They do not rush.

They do not check emails.

They do not wonder if they should be doing something more productive with their time.

They simply exist—with alarming confidence.

This weekend, I am attempting the same.

I am reconnecting with a girlfriend who knew me in crazy overdrive mode and who I’m lucky continues to get to know me in this new season. I am having what I have decided will be a sexie breakfast with a fun aunt—by which I mean good coffee, a cute dress- because diva I am, and conversations that drift into inappropriate laughter. I am also celebrating my mother-in-law’s birthday with family, where food will be both excessive and mandatory.

And somewhere in between, I will sit in the sun.

I will waddle in a pool without trying to optimize the experience.

I will read a new book without turning it into research.

I will allow time to pass without negotiating with it.

George will likely supervise.

Isabella will judge.

And both of them will remind me that joy does not require permission.

We have been taught that a good life is a productive life. But I am starting to suspect that a good life is simply a present one.

Unrushed.

Unimpressive.

Unapologetically yours.

Tell me—what is one small, slightly indulgent thing you are doing this weekend that your younger self would approve of?