It’s been a very odd week.

My daughter had surgery to rebuild a knee destroyed in a bad ski accident, our first foray into major medical issues.

The two of us spent four days camped out in the living room, the upstairs bedrooms no longer accessible. I worked (inefficiently), she slept, and we watched too many episodes of Supernatural on Netflix. (I’m Team Dean, she’s Team Sam.) We ate chips, cried, and shared our perspectives on life (and cute boys).

I did not sleep for more than two hours at a time, answering the calls for food, water, medicine, and emotional support. It reminded me of those blurry early days of motherhood, but instead of a cute, cuddly baby, I was working with a scared, hurting, demanding teenager.

I did not step foot outside my house, even when summer decided to surprise New Jersey.

This was the kind of week most people write off as a total loss. Numerous obligations not only fell through the cracks, they dropped into a bottomless pit. I can feel the effects on my sore body, my bleary mind, and my house that looks like it was vandalized.

And I would do it all again. (Minus the excessive pain and suffering, perhaps.)

It’s been a lifetime since my daughter, whose wings of independence expand with each passing moment, and I spent 100 consecutive hours within a few feet of each other. My role of Mama got a glorious reprisal, and I loved it.

Being a grown-up can feel as heavy, and hard to lift, as a boulder. There are responsibilities, commitments and bills, constantly dragging you away from the freedom and peace you seek. I understand this perspective. Very well.

But here’s what I was reminded during my dramatic week: there’s so much more than that. Exerting yourself in the gift of a job well done is marvelous. Taking on your responsibilities as a gift of choice is empowering. Being able to offer more kindness and compassion than you thought you had is psychedelically spectacular. Loving – just because you can – is crystallized freedom.

For one moment today, can you look at something that was rubbing the wrong way and stroke it gently with your hand, giving thanks for the sensation?

Can you approach a derailment, disaster or unwanted situation and hold it gently, asking what it wants from you?

Can you peel off the over-sized cloak of adulthood, and settle into a soft, warm blanket of ease?

Just for a moment, let’s snuggle on the couch, holding each other, and let that be enough. The world will call us back before too long.