Now that I’m retired I’ve noticed that my spirit picks up on Monday mornings. Early morning I settle into my chair to check the news and the weather, to contemplate life or to do nothing at all. Perhaps to fall back asleep. My choice.
The dog asks to go out, and I stand with her in my front yard and listen to the roar of the freeway a mile away. All those people headed back to work. It makes me smile.
I know that sounds smug. Possibly even evil. But with everyone back at work grocery shopping gets easier. Driving into town is less insane. Going to the park is more peaceful.
It seems like the sky is blue just for me. I notice the roses glowing, the birds singing. I have time to watch the light move across my back yard.
Mondays are special because they remind me again, every week, how lucky I am that I’m not jumping in the shower and then into the car, heading back into the fray.
Monday is my favorite day though the rest of the workweek isn’t bad either. And I’ve learned to tolerate all of you crowding up my weekend. I’ve learned to just hang on because Monday will roll around again soon.
Monday. It’s my favorite day.