Comforted But Not Comfortable

My bones feel tired. From exercise meant to keep me young and spry. From too many late nights spent pursuing my passions and past times. From too many early mornings punctuated by a baby’s cry and a preschooler’s pounding footsteps. When the time finally comes to rest, it all lets go. My limbs go almost limp and I sink into the couch or bed, knowing that once I lay down, I’m unlikely to get up anytime soon. My racing mind, still thinking of tasks yet to accomplish and adding to my mental list, even as I try to focus on relaxation. Comfort is not about rest as much as it is about fulfillment. I will likely be tired most days for the next 18 or so years, but I feel safe, feel loved. I may not always be comfortable but I am comforted.