I'm dancing through life. Slowly.

I am living slowly. Ever so slowly. Supper takes an hour, or more. No hurry. My true love takes 20 minutes, or less. We move at our own paces. We don't foist our ways on each other. Which is good. But I tend to slow her down. And she speeds me up. But I'm the winner in all this. I've convinced her that it's probably best to live life slowly. To take one's time. To savor virtually everything. Especially everything that's nice. Such as a meal. I don't eat much more than she. But I'm the one with no problem losing weight. Staying slim and trim. Svelte. And I suspect it's because I'm slow. And steady. When I go out to exercise, I do it relatively slowly. I'm walking these days. Rather than running. But I hardly ever go less than 8 miles a day. Often more. I've already done 10 miles today. And it ain't even noon yet. And I'll have a light lunch. Very light. But it'll take me a half hour to consume everything. I'm gonna sit down and write, too. Slowly. And I'll think some thoughts. Slowly. I wasn't always this way. I used to live fast-paced. Meeting daily deadlines. Seems to me that speed and stress go hand-in-hand. My true love leads a fairly stressful life. So I try to relieve some of her stress. By taking on some of her menial tasks. So she has more time. Not to do more. But to slow down. And to do less. My true love often makes lists of things to do. For the sake of efficiency. But I've gotten away from lists. I don't wanna be reminded to feel overwhelmed. With too many things to do. I'd rather put the unessential things off. Until tomorrow. Or maybe next week. Or maybe forever. I'm trying to dance through life. Slow-dance. Ever so slowly. One might not even know I'm dancing. But believe me, I am. --Jim Broede