8 o’clock – I’d hear the back gate creak closed. A few moments of silence. Theo’s keys in the kitchen door. Clack, clack. Always two turns to get the door unlocked. The hinges groaning open. The trash bins clattering as he emptied them out back. The water running in the sink as he started the dishes. His phone would ring, “Umva! ” and the rest of his fast Kinyarwanda a babble to my ears.
I miss it, the daily rhythm of life in Rwanda. There was a predictability to Theo’s day that kept me in a sense of time. There was laundry freshly folded every week. There were diapers washed every two days. The car was washed every morning. He went to the market on Tuesday or Wednesday.
I’m just coming out of the fog of Rainier’s early months. My days with tiny goals and no routines. Rainier is taking more predictable naps and Ellie Jo has settled into our new family dynamic. I’m realizing that we can only get out of the house two or three times a week without upsetting the delicate balance of naps and security and normalcy. It’s all slowly coming together.
And I’m beginning to crave a rhythm. I just want a simple flow to our daily life, our weekly schedule and our monthly plans. I want more beyond: we get up, eat breakfast and everyone *must* be dressed before Ellie Jo can watch a show. The rest of the day is crying out for something.
So I’m working out something basic. I don’t know how it will end up. Maybe some scheduled reading time every day? Some scheduled art? Definitely some large muscle activity. Nothing makes a 3 year old crazier than being physically under stimulated.
I feel at peace with this desire. I definitely feel like I wasn’t ready for it any sooner. Now is the time. Now is when I shape our days around my tasks. I will wash the laundry. I will fold the laundry (oh yes I will). I will make the rhythms for my children, just as Theo used to make them for me.
Another life lesson from Rwanda.