For several months, loneliness has been felt and the screens have gone away. But how are you really? I share this text which does good. It was written by my good, perfectly imperfect friend, Rebecca. Enjoy it like a little everyday balm, a call to gentleness. I hope it warms you up a little. marmot SO.

We get up in the morning, after the little one has jumped on our heads, or the big one has stubbed his toe on a door frame. We drag our feet a bit to the coffee maker, we serve fruit, cereals, toast – how do we cut them this morning? We take a sip of hot liquid. The children calm down a little, time to eat.

We then test the waters on our cell phone.
Weather, headlines, family calendar. Then we look at social networks for a bit, our eyes still foggy with sleep.

Some people's mornings seem sweeter. Better organized. Less chaotic. Her cooking is so beautiful . His children eat That . His linen is this brand . They seem to That .

So the questions arise.

Should I...
What if I had...
And if it was like that...
Or more. Or less. Or better.
And if!

We look up a little.
The tallest asks for a third piece of toast. The littlest would like some yogurt.
Then we look at the kitchen, a bit (already!) a mess.

But how do the others do it?
Where do they find the time?

Another question.
Where is the behind the scenes in all this?

You have to give yourself the right.
The right to question, the right to ask the camera to rotate 180 degrees, the right to call “appearance” into question.

But, above all, we must give ourselves the right to choose.
The right to choose who and what we subscribe to, the right also to distance ourselves, whether by unsubscribing (simple satisfaction) or even by taking a long screen break.

Life is without filters, even if we often give in to the desire to apply several of them ourselves.
Everyday life, despite its imperfections, is ours. It is unique. Let us choose to see the beautiful, the sweet, the simple.

Not all the time.

We take another sip of cold coffee, and smile at what is given to us.

What we built.

And all that, really, is as we want.

Author: Rebecca Cloutier

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