Morning Wagon, photo © 2007 by ybonesy. All rights reserved.
Mornings, and I find myself on a Friday afternoon thinking about Saturday morning. I love my ritual of making coffee, heating up milk (if I don’t, it will turn the coffee cold, I use so much), watching the light stream through the sliding glass door. We don’t get the morning paper, but if I could, I’d order one up just for tomorrow so I could walk out the long drive past the old wagon and to the place outside the gate where the paper would wait, just for me.
This isn’t living in the present, I know. This moment — right now — is Friday, not Saturday. It is 4:38 pm, not 6:30 am. And yet, I won’t wag a finger at myself for not living in the moment. Maybe I let myself off the hook too easily by telling myself, “It’s all in anticipation for new beginnings.”
And here’s my secret: 80% of the time I would choose a new day over the end of this day. That’s me. Don’t feel bad for me. I don’t.
TGIF.
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