Mondays mean many things to many people.
The start of the work week – the foot of a long hill of toil and stress that must be climbed. The recommencing of good intentions or diets or personal plans after the ‘relaxing’ of rules over the weekend. Back to early mornings, packed lunches, crowded bus and train journeys, rushed breakfasts and copious coffees. Homework undone and hanging over little heads like the Sword of Damocles. Assignments not read or tutorials not prepared for. Meeting friends for coffee or a drink or lunch….or simply seeing other people after a weekend alone. Another week closer to Easter holidays or exams, a countdown to retirement, or babies born, or birthdays, anniversaries, pay day, mortgage repayment day, your last day on this earth.
My Monday routine is a faded memory as each day I rewrite my life through tiny eyes and miniature fingers. The soundtrack of giggles and screams and cooing plays constantly under the drama as I act out my role. I calm and I pet and I cajole while inside I am crying.
Then suddenly the noise stops. Eyelids droop. Silence rushes in to fill the void. And a moment of peace settles around me.
This is what Monday means. Another day of wonder.