Take it Easy. Take a Broom.
My way to slow down my life
“The moments of happiness we enjoy take us by surprise. It is not that we seize them, but that they seize us.” — Ashley Montagnu (British-American anthropologist, 1905–1999)
The last year was the most exhausting time of my life. Please don’t get me wrong: no complaints at all about that, after all I’m a lucky guy.
But let me tell you the whole story.
Exactly one year ago my wife became pregnant, for the third time. Our two other kids were one and three years old then.
“Third time? That’s going to be easy!”
No way. This pregnancy was by far the worst for my wife, and so in quite some regards for me, too. She felt sick for many months and was unable to go to work at some point. Doing the household also became increasingly harder for her, so I had to jump in and do her part at home as well.
Then, our family grew too big to further live in an apartment for rent on the fourth floor with no elevator in the house. For some time already, we were looking for a new home.
We found one in the middle of February. It was a great opportunity, and it was just in time: only one month before our son was about to be born.
Next came a period of uncertainty. Could it happen? Or would someone else offer more money and snatch the house away from us? Honestly, it was also quite stressful for me to take care of all the formalities.
And you can be sure: In Germany, where I do live, there is a lot of them.
As you all know, only a few weeks later the Covid-19 shutdown paralyzed public life. That made things worse for us. Daily logistics became more and more complicated, and our son missed the calculated date of his birth. The days passed — one, two, three, four, five days. If there would have been any complications, it might have had dramatic consequences. At that time only the mother was allowed to be in the hospital, the fathers and everyone else had to stay out.
But everything went well. Our son was the very last (!) baby born at our chosen birth house without any Covid-19 restrictions. Up to the present day, he is a healthy and happy little guy.
Then some good news again: We got the house. Bad news in return: Because of the Covid-19 restrictions I couldn’t go to work for about two and a half months. At least since I was not working, I could concentrate completely on my family and moving to our new house.
As we were right about to pack and prepare everything, at the beginning of May our oldest son got very ill and had to stay in the hospital for several days. Again, because of Covid-19, this was logistically very complicated. My wife stayed with him there most of the time, the baby with her. So, of course, she couldn’t help much in preparing the move to the new house.
With the help of my wife’s sister, we’d managed it all, though. Later in May, it all started to calm down. Our boy was much better off, we began to settle in our new home, and I started working again.
Fortunately, I stayed physically fit in that period. Unfortunately, my nerves were and still are at breaking point. Working all day and having three kids, one of them a baby, means no free time and very little sleep. That doesn’t make the situation any better.
Having not much options to change anything, one usually just works. After all, there is an everyday life to manage.
But indeed, again I’m a lucky guy. In a way I draw strength from all this — managing my life, and be part of my family member’s lives. I am grateful for that (though I am not always able to show it).
I just have to admit: It’s all exhausting.
That’s when I somehow decided to buy a broom. Yes, a simple broom. I mean a bigger one, for sweeping the sidewalk or the street in front of your house.
After all, in Germany, you are obliged to keep the pavement next to your house clean (I don’t know about the rules in the US).
So I didn’t just buy a house, I also bought the inevitable broom belonging to it.
I did it after work, on my way home. I was in a hurry already not to come home too late and quickly became upset because I didn’t find what I wanted at first: just a simple, wooden broom. I found fancy ones, made of plastic, and formed in an ergonomic way to improve your sweep experience or whatever.
Then, somewhat very much like a living being, a thought sneaked into my mind: I wanted that simple kind of broom. Not the modern version. I remembered myself being a teenager, sweeping our courtyard in my parent’s house in my home village. And of course, the sidewalk in front of that house (neighbors used to watch very closely that everything was clean). Strangely, at that moment it was important to me that I did it with exactly that kind of broom.
Once again, I was a lucky guy. Finally, I’d found what I wanted. My mood immediately started to improve.
After I had parked my car at home, I told my wife that I just needed a few minutes more before having dinner to sweep the sidewalk.
And it was amazing. First, I had to attach the stick to the actual broom, which I did by stomping it onto the ground. Like I had done every time before I started sweeping back then. The hollow sound of that bumps intensified my memory of the past. I mean, not quite about myself doing exactly that, but when and in what surroundings. As a kid, I usually had to do it on Saturday noon, after I’ve had a good start into the weekend, and before I went out to play with my friends.
Back then, life was easy. No commitments, no constraints. Just a lot of time to do whatever I want.
That evening, I did what was needed to do (some parts of the sidewalk were quite dirty). But then I did a little more than was necessary. Living in rental apartments for over 15 years, I hadn’t done that kind of work for a long time (I know, a construction worker or someone else using brooms every day might laugh at me for writing this).
The movements, the sounds, and the feeling of pressure by the broomstick on my hands, it all created a short moment of personal joy for me.
It started to rain. I put the broom and shovel in the garage and went into the house. Then, with irresistible power, the usual routine started (those people having kids in that age know what I mean).
And now, what really makes me a lucky man: It all feels perfectly right. I deeply love my wife and my kids and I would not want it any other way. But creating such short moments full of nostalgia is important to me. Remembering the time when life was simple gives me the strength to master my stressful everyday life and also to be able to enjoy it.
Pay attention to your short moments. Embrace them. And if you know how to trigger them, go ahead.
