I felt more space in my chest. Time had an elasticity to it that was a little liberating. Relaxed choices being made. No minutes metered by aggrieved worry while hustling at 80 up 128.

Handsome dog walker took Finn. I got to spend those hours on myself.

Went into the town center and sat and wrote for a while, as people do. Listened to other peoples’ conversations. Watched with amusement as a man in a full length coat swaggered out the door and flung up his hood while crossing the street. A modern Gandalf. Listened with dismay as a young female scientist pumped a senior male scientist for advice about all manner of things, including work/life balance. It was all I could do not to lean over and say, “Who else are you consulting?”

Then off to City Hall to renew dog license. Then down Beacon Street to return dishes to a friend who made us salmon with a maple glaze a couple of weeks ago.

What? It’s not yet noon?

I had time to call to my mother’s younger sister — the aunt people always say I look like. It had been years since we’d spoken, I don’t know why. The call had time to meander. Helpful things revealed. Surprising. Not surprising.

Then it’s still Finn-away time so I tend to the perennial beds, the sun warming my back.

Came in. Almost finished a book called “The Ravenmaster,” enjoying the antics of those wickedly smart birds. It’s the book my sister gave C for Christmas, so I’m staying with that, but out of curiosity more than grief, though a little grief, too.

Still early. Quilting. Laundry. Time feels like a friend. My ribs expand. Finished prime’s so-so thriller, Absentia. Dinner would be good, so I heat leftovers. Ice cream. Man!

It’s not that I don’t miss her — I do — but all those binding constraints? No and no.

A most ordinary, extraordinary Tuesday.