“Do something fun today,” my friend said in parting. Actually, that comment reinforced an earlier part of our conversation.
I ran into Colleen in the grocery store the other week and, as always, we hugged, this time without masks. It was good to see her sweet smile. We don’t encounter one another all that often, and the hugs are important to us.
“So, what have you been up to lately?” she asked. “I hope you’re doing something fun.”
She may as well have asked if I planned to jump off the roof. I don’t generally think much about fun. Oh, there are things I enjoy, but not a lot of occasion to plan them. Age and obligations seem to have stolen our tendency for spur of the moment nonsense. There aren’t many free days in a row on our calendar to allow for the travel we looked forward to doing in retirement, and on days when we are home together, there’s a backlog of chores to catch up on.
I probably mumbled something about not having made a plan yet, but obviously Collen sensed my confusion and thought a reminder would be good as we went our separate ways.
“Do something fun today.” More of an assignment than a suggestion.
I don’t suppose she imagined that her words would live in my head this long, but I’ve had to examine just what having fun would mean. Should I plan for it, and would I recognize it if an opportunity happened along? I thought of another friend who said, years back, after his divorce, that he was trying to remember what he used to do for fun and incorporate some of that in his new routine.
As a kid, fun was riding my bike, playing games with neighbors, climbing trees, making a hideout in a barn stall, and going to the circus. As a teen, it was ball games, dances, movies, and hanging out with friends. Taking the kids on picnics and outings came later, as well as an evening out with grown up friends. I went back to school after being widowed, got involved in Cowboy Poetry Gatherings, met my present spouse, and we had a lot of fun traveling and spending time with like minded friends. Lately, life has become serious and routine, and fun isn’t something I think much about. It sort of has to hit me up alongside the head. When it does, and I decide to make it a priority, the good intentions fall by the way like New Year promises.
So, if I need more fun, what would that look like? A new book, unopened and awaiting discovery? Planting flowers—does that count? How about writing to a far away friend, getting a surprise in the mail, visits from grandkids, or driving out to check a pasture with my husband?
It’ll be fun going to graduation parties for young people who are special to me. Having my family from Montana and Wyoming visit this summer, going to the Post Playhouse, those are fun. But what am I going to do for fun today? Guess I’ll play a game of Solitaire while I mull it over. And maybe confuse some people by passing on the assignment.
Have some fun today. You’re welcome.