7: Saturday...

I lay there
half-expecting it
in the thoughts that lie partially buried in a murky sea bed
I get restless, shifting to the right side and
then back to my favorite left
But it's quiet
there's no buzzing,
no dancing-vibrating thing
clamoring toward the very tip of my nightstand
threatening the end of tonight's journey
I snuggle in again
albeit the smallest part of me
still waits for the other shoe to drop
as if this too-good stretch of slumber could go
poof
at any time
and the really luxurious thing is
that it doesn't
no, it doesn't
because
today
is
special

It's Saturday

Instead
there are padded footsteps
hurrying toward my bedside
and the buttery-soft hand
of a little
reaching out
touching my cheek
inviting me to the day ahead
"Mommy!"
his velvet voice whispers while
climbing up
blankie and friends in tow
nestling in
blonde shocks of babyish hair
cushioning my chin
because
today
is
special

It's Saturday

Write on,
b

Celebrate on Saturdays | Sit...

I sit here now in a quiet house, taking a break from a handful of projects at varying points of completion.  Next to me is the fifth antique dining room chair that has now been repurposed as a part of our entry hallway vignette...it just needs four felt pads to cushion its place.  I moved it to the carpet because one little guy decided it was the perfect thing to push around, cutting thin shallow paths through the sea of cherry wood.  And then there are the Megablocks scattered like seashells across our eat-in kitchen that connects to the family room where their container is stored beside other toys.  Inevitably as soon as I pick them up, the littler little dumps them back out.  It's this little game we play and right now, I'm choosing to ignore the multicolored mess.   The washing machine is churning; the dryer adds its white noise.  I wonder about making some meals to lighten my after-work load next week, and what should be ironed to make mornings easier.  I consider the stacks of resources in my basement I would like to organize, as well as the binders, papers, and books upstairs.

Then I look outside.  Kids bike past, racing home from the pool down the street.  Pets and their owners stroll by, noticing the intricacies of neighborhood yards.  Leaves dance; I imagine their hushed symphony.  Every once in awhile the sun peeks out, making light earth's handiwork.

And I'm still.

Typically, my weekend looks more like rewarmed weekdays with checklists, timeframes, and calendar reminders.  Today, however, I push them aside and celebrate the time to notice, to name, to truly see.

And the view is nice.

Write on,
b

Clarity | Slice 22:31

I sit here now not knowing if 

the lights should be on or off

the coffee strong or weak

the pace fast or slow

the boxes empty or full

the questions

they loom like disagreeable friends

who once stood supportive

but changed

their stripes

stripes that embraced 

now separate

if I'm not careful

the questions grow

bigger and bigger

closer and closer

crowding out the sunlight

from yesterday

that carries today

that may be hidden tomorrow

people say

change is what keeps us

moving forward and 

objectively 

it is true

what is to come will be better

but

subjectively

it is sometimes

smiles that turn into tears 

without warning

and 

musings that turn into fears

without end

I covet 

the quietness

the peace

a nap

an opportunity

They will come.

Write on,

b

Welcome comparison... | Slice 8:31

Normally, Saturday stiff-arms me with
school work before the sun rises
then
grocery shopping
dusting
sweeping
school work during the nap window
cooking
dishes
laundry
school work after the sun sets

Today, Saturday comforted me with
time to sleep in
time to meander through
Target's aisles
(Do you like my new art?)  
time to figure out a new car seat
time to freshen up this winter's
tired decor stashed around my house
time to wander through
a nearby mall
time to pick carefully and
buy confidently
time to coast into intersections
time to jog away from them

Time to breathe

Write on,
b

It's Friday | Slice 7:31

It's Friday

I'm home well before everyone today
And even though I always have music on, I don't now
I'm drinking in the silence
The mental gymnastics, race-running, problem-solving, and talking, all dissipate
An organic symphony envelopes me like a chamois blanket

Inside,
The hum of the refrigerator switching gears
The roar of the furnace regulating the internal temperature before 5:00 pm
The water rushing through pipes
The gentle rumbling of cars and trucks as they travel past our neighborhood
The laptop's high-pitched whir

Outside,
The birds chirping and playing
The neighborhood dogs barking while walking past
The mail truck breaking and accelerating, breaking and accelerating
The neighbors arriving home from work and school,
staying outside just a few extra minutes to walk, to ride, to run
before dinner, and bedtime, and bath.

I'm home well before everyone today
And even though I always have music on, I don't now
I'm drinking in the silence
The mental gymnastics, race-running, problem-solving, and talking, all dissipate
An organic symphony envelopes me like a chamois blanket

It's Friday

Write on,
b