Aprovechar

I come from a long line of excellent sleepers. My mother liked nothing better than to curl up with a good book in her nice, nice bed where she slept soundly into the morning. Whatever worries she had — and as a mother of seven who took on the lion’s share of raising her pride, she must have had plenty of worries — she was able to tuck them away for the night and accept that she’d face whatever was left of them in the morning. Most problems are better faced on a good night’s sleep.

But lately, I have been waking up before dawn, my pinball mind ricocheting from one idea to the next: my to-do list in preparation for the summer writing series I am organizing, the perils and promises of artificial intelligence, a loved one’s health, whether I should change veterinarians because my current one is patronizing and expensive and Otis still licks everything constantly, global warming, and additions to my grocery list.

The other morning, I fretted in bed for as long as I could before getting up to greet the dawn and the calm lake. Eventually, Otis and I ventured out into the nearby woods where we met my friend, Celia. The orange-globe sun sat low in the hazy sky while we talked about our children’s new jobs and wedding updates, upcoming trips and weekend plans. We also touched on politics (would we ever stop talking about the 2020 election?) and the World Cup, sharing a low simmering angst about existential concerns shrouded in the smoke from Canadian wildfires. How can I hold deep joy and the tinge of dread that hovers at the edge of my consciousness?

Our conversation meandered as did Otis, and Celia offered me a new word, Aprovechar. She had adopted the expression during the years she lived in Spain. “It means to leverage, or to make good use of. Like seize the day, but also a warning not to let something go to waste,” she explained. “ Before a meal, someone might say, ¡Que aproveche! meaning, may it benefit or nourish you.”

The word stayed with me throughout the day, like a combination of YOLO and a blessing. And I wondered what I should be making good use of. Should I use my resources to back a candidate? Use a sunny day to enjoy the lake? Use my voice to take a stand? Use my time to read a book or spend with loved ones, laundry be damned? I guess, it’s all of it – the good, the scary, the joyous, the uncertainty.

Mom would have liked the word. She didn’t waste things, time, or attention. Maybe she slept so well at day’s end because she was busy during the day’s middle making the most of things: Sunday’s pot roast turned into Wednesday’s meatloaf, a rainy day to attend to indoor jobs, a wrong turn on a back country road that led to a new ice cream stand, a weekend visit from her daughter to sit and listen, or a day at the beach to spend with her grandchildren. I can picture her in her final years, settled and happy in bed, looking up at me with her cute, crooked smile. I might ask if she wanted to sing a few songs before she fell asleep. She’d answer, “Sure, let’s make the most of it.”