And there's also a visceral, life-long reaction to the days of the week. Thursdays, for example, have always brought a little more skip to my step. I say that metaphorically these days because that's about all the skipping possible. Apparently last weekend I was actually full-on limping and couldn't even tell. I don't think I've been doing it this week, but, as I say, I can't tell. But the day is coming when I won't be able to keep from it. My shot left leg doesn't is a one-way street. For now, however, the pain hasn't gotten ahead of the ability to step on it for at least a moment at a time.
Ahem. ANYWAY. I like Thursdays, especially Thursday nights. Always have. They're a portend of the weekend. An Eve. I've always liked them almost more than Fridays because the anticipation is there. If I could just get through one more day of school, could just finish this paper, study for that test, handle those kids, be present with those people once again, it'd be the weekend, and there'd be a different kind of being. I think the best way to put it was a desire to 'finish strong' on Fridays, so I could enjoy the weekend.
Likewise, Sunday nights, even now, bring a small thud in my gut. Beve will be marching out the door at 6 AM (if not an hour sooner) and the week will take off at a sprint. It's been like this my whole 55 years. First Daddy would leave. Then I'd have to go to school myself. Then to work, then it was Beve, my children. Me. School again. And so forth. Always the same thud on Sunday nights. The preparation of clothes and studies and hearts and minds to gear up.
So it's Thursday. And I'm really, really looking forward to this weekend, which brings a promise and my sisters just after noon tomorrow. And laughter and whatever good conversation we conjure up between us.
For now, I simply anticipate.
And thought I'd share with you other things I relish...like Thursdays.
- the smell of freshly cut grass, especially on red-cheeked children who play hard in the spring
- a row of pens in a store, and a place to try them all out--just the chance to try them out
- walking into a coffee shop--the smell, people talking together. It's like a village square.
- the boardwalk down on our bay that bridges over the water to my favorite part of our city
- The dogwood tree blossoming in our front yard.
- cracking open a book for the first time, reading the first paragraph and knowing--knowing--I'm going to fall in!
- Floating in water--the one time in all of life there is a cessation of pain in my body (but I'd like it anyway; water is my natural habitat)
- the color orange in every hue but neon--
- the sweat on the back of the neck of a baby when they first awaken from a nap and are burrowing into my shoulder (remembering my own babies when another cuddles in just so)
- the first cut of fabric when it's on its way to becoming a quilt
- the last stitch of a quilt when it's finally finished and the vision is realized--and I know where it's going!
- the every-now-and-then glimpse, real glimpse of Him, right here, right now in this conversation, these words, this moment. Ah yes. This.
- Being. Sounds foolish perhaps, but that's it. Being.