I grew up in a strictly Catholic home. Besides being taught the joys of bearing eternal Catholic guilt, I learned discipline, faith, and how to stand up to your beliefs  - qualities I value and hope to pass on to my own children. I consider myself to be a spiritual person; I just don't buy into the Catholic ideology, stopped doing so when I was a teenager.

Still, when the local church deals out invitations to the village's 4- and 5-year-olds, inviting them to join them one Saturday a month for 2½ hours, both my son and I bolt to the door. I get an entire morning to surf a while on the Internet, do laundry, clean up, and buy groceries. He gets to play, sing songs, and I guess listen to stories about Jesus. I've understood that ice cream is also involved in this "indoctrination".

Call me cynical, call me evil, but I couldn't care less. I got 2½ hours of peace, and he had a great time.

This Saturday morning I have the luxury of waking up well rested at dawn (which over here is 7:30 A.M this time of year). I rollover and tell my still sleeping husband that I am going to go for a walk.

The temperature outside is about 40 degrees F, and a thick fog blankets the ground. The air is both crisp and moist, and as it fills my lungs I imagine  I've entered into a cool sauna. The sound of birds chirping along with my footsteps striking the asphalt is all I hear.

Most of the houses lie quiet; I see through one kitchen window what seems to be a sleep-deprived dad with his child in diapers beside him (been there - done that!). When I get to the soccer fields the grass absorbs the sound of my footsteps, and I can hear myself breathe. I can't see more than 30 yards, but having gone this path many times before I move on ahead towards the woods wherein there lies a stream. In the woods I walk along the stream and stop by the old, slanted tree. With my hands on my thighs I do cat-cow to my inhalation and exhalation. I use the trees trunk so that I can do a modified downward facing dog. My stitches still feel a little tight.

I focus on being in the moment. I don't forbid myself to think, but I do make myself aware of when I am thinking. I recall how when I used to jog a simple interruption like having to ties my shoes drove me insane, since it added 30 seconds to my time. Now I soak up the moments I just stand still by the water and notice the small rings formed by the fish residing below the surface.

On my way back home, church bells start to ring in the distance. It's 8 o'clock. Walking along the street I notice that most of the houses have their kitchen lights turned on. I come home and am greeted by my daughter who yells, "Hi, mommy!". My husband is in his bathrobe emptying the dishwasher. The timer rings as I take off my shoes signaling that my softboiled egg is ready. I smell fresh coffee.

We sit down at the table and eat breakfast.

Does life get any better than this?