I was in the pool yesterday swimming laps. I’m getting into a nice routine these days. I know what clothes to pack and have all my toiletries arranged together so I’m ready for the shower after my swim. When I’m in the locker room, I hear a lot of plastic bags crinkling as other women organize themselves too. I’ve gotten pretty good at this schedule and very rarely leave something behind.

My son and I were up late one night shmoozing. It isn’t often we get to spend time talking about deep and meaningful subjects. I would have stayed up even longer if my drooping eyelids would have agreed.

We spoke softly because of the lateness of the hour, and my son, who is usually running from one thing to the next, sat across from me talking quietly or listening intently, causing my love for him to overflow as I gazed into his warm eyes while adoring his trademark smile.

My body has become one giant exercise regimen. “Pull in my stomach.” “Remember to do my morning exercise practice – but wait, it’s already mid-afternoon.” I was pretty good about getting into a steady routine until my kids came erev Shabbos. I thought about the exercises I needed to do while putting up the cholent. Before I turned around, it was four o’clock, and I knew it wasn’t going to happen. But I did remember to stand up straight for a few moments when opening the door to the breakfront. Between washing the kitchen floor, putting the food into the oven to warm, and moving the Shabbos candlesticks to a safer location, I remembered bits and pieces like, “It’s time to drink some water.” “Hold in my core but relax my shoulders.”

I was having a decluttering kind of morning and decided to get rid of as much as I could. For someone who enjoys this kind of activity, I was amazed at how much I continued to store but never used – like purses, for example. Each season, I treat myself to a new one. Since I can’t bring myself to plunk down hundreds of dollars for one that isn’t even real leather, I always seem to settle for something I like that is either on the clearance table or in a discounted shop. When the new season rolls around, I put last year’s model on a shelf in my closet where it sits with others in a heap like rusted old cars in a junkyard. The thought in my mind is that maybe I’ll reuse it the following year.

I walked by my dining room just now and closed an open drawer. It was from a little table we bought after moving here a few years ago. I needed it for my leichter, and it was a chore finding just the right one. I learned that what I was looking for is called a console table and searched high and low but couldn’t find one that fit the very small space that I had for it. I remember feeling pleased when my search was finally over – and even happier when the table fit perfectly in the spot where it needed to go.

The console table has three drawers, which I had no intention of using when I first bought it. But wouldn’t you know: Those drawers are now stuffed to the gills. Well, I could argue that they’re filled with necessary things that I use when I light my candles every Friday night. One drawer holds boxes of wicks, another the book of brachas I say for Shabbos and Yom Tov, and the last one contains lighters, matches, and tea lights – all things needed for candle lighting. I wondered as I closed the drawer where I would have put all those things if I didn’t have that cute little console table. Frankly, I just can’t imagine.

I have a friend whom everyone likes. Know the type? She claims it’s because they like listening to her South African accent, but I know better. My friend Wendy has this wonderful way about her that draws everyone to her like a magnet. She is also known for the amazing amounts of chesed she does for her community. I remember when Wendy used to hold sheva brachos in her house for upwards of 60 to 70 people even if she barely knew the baalei simcha. She did more than that. Wendy organized the events and helped cook the food too. Who does that? Wendy’s kindness to others was truly amazing, but she always acted like it was nothing.