Ah… it’s the weekend. How lovely. How wonderful it is. Like the last bits of chocolate that are melted to the bottom of a cup of hot cocoa, all sweet and savory and ending the drink on a good note, the weekend has arrived and not at all too soon.
What a week.
I find it interesting how at such a young age, when my life is beginning to unfold before me with opportunities blooming at every corner, that I countdown the days until the weekend. Then, when that dismal Monday morning sneaks up and snatches me away from my blessed, warm bed to wrench me into another hectic five days of sheer, exhausting chaos, I countdown again. It’s a cycle.
Why do we count down until the weekend? Why is Monday such a wretched day, so unappreciated as compared to Saturday mornings or even Wednesday who has a cool nickname: “Hump Day”?
I know this may seem to be a rhetorical question. We know all to well the slumber that accompanies those early Monday mornings. I don’t know about you, but my bedroom is cold. My house is cold. Outside it’s cold. When I wake up on a Monday morning, before the sun even rises, I am cold. At that moment, the countdown until Friday night begins, but there’s no time to lag, it’s 5 a.m. and the clock is ticking. Time to run, go to school, go to practice, work, and do homework to get ahead for the week and every moment counts.
But despite the fact that I am using my time efficiently, am I using my time the full extent of its bounty? Am I making the time to enjoy the colors of the soft sunset, splattered with hues of pink and orange as it stretches over the green fields? Am I savoring the taste of my mint tea with the delightful quote of the day typed neatly on the paper? Am I feeling the wind pass over my body as I surge with power and strength, feet striking the pavement with a steady beat, breathing in the taste of the spring air when I run? Am I devoting every smile and moment with my love to memory, for in a few months, our paths may split? Am I actually going to finish that novel, whose pages smell like cedar shelves and pages worn smooth by time under the shade of a wise tree in the park that is empty much too often? Am I living?
There’s some food for thought. Chew on that for a bit.
Enjoy your weekend. Slow time down and spare a few moments to look around you, for you might be surprised what you will learn. As for the countdown, maybe I’ll put that aside for a while and give Monday the appreciation it deserves. My english teacher, whom I was always trying to differentiate between wise and slightly senile, once said Mondays were the best day of the week. They are the perfect opportunity to begin anew and start over. Rather than seeing your week as merely a countdown, view your week as an adventure. I think right there, the wisdom won.
But remember to sleep in on Saturdays. As wonderful as my Monday’s will be from here on out as I attempt to change my perspective, my bed is warm and for now, I will happily reside here.