Our summer holidays have drawn to a close and it’s back to school tomorrow for the teachers. I’m ready, actually, which is a warm feeling.

I had coffee with a group of colleagues this morning, and as we chatted about our holidays, it struck me how little I’d actually done, and how good that felt. I’m normally one to set an alarm, plan activities, spend as much time “doing” as possible. But this summer was different. I could feel that I needed to rest, that my body needed to slow down, and I let it. I lay in bed well past the alarm, already set for later than usual, and spent hours upon hours lost in novels. Sometimes I cooked, sometimes I went for walks.

But what I am mostly struck by, is what I didn’t do. For the first time that I can remember, I didn’t rebel against my body’s desire for quiet. I didn’t push myself to go for a bike ride if I didn’t feel like it, or to the climbing hall if I didn’t feel like it. I didn’t feel like I was wasting my time, I didn’t feel pressured to use my time well, and I really didn’t think too much about the time at all.

Granted, I travelled a little, and those weeks were different. But for three weeks of the summer holidays, I just lived my life at home. Maybe the weather had something to do with it – the weather has been unpredictable, cool, and rainy. Maybe some residual tiredness from the previous school year was still in my body somehow. Or maybe it’s something else entirely. Either way, it was new.

And it was refreshing. I am rested. I am ready to go back to school. I’m looking forward to the routine and to the students, to initiatives I’m involved in and one just getting started.

It has been a quiet summer. And for once, quiet was just right.