As the relentless march of time advances, another Monday at work has come and gone for the whole of us. As I sit in my state of blogger idleness (idle bloggerness?) I assure you that what I lack in contribution to the blog I make up for in something else. Then I see all that my wife does AND still finds away to leave her delicate footprint on the sands at the edge of the blogosphere and, frankly, I just have yet to discern what that something else that I do is.
In which stilled danandpreethi blog waters shall I dabble my toes? Perhaps I'll start in relation to my lovely wife's post of earlier this morning.
Why do I love Mondays? Well, mostly because its the freshest day of the week - after the weekend's activities and spiritual renewal, there's always a little bit more spring to be sprung in the step. Again, we can return to our daily labors and have until the weekend to complete those tasks, rather than the Friday afternoon crunch I often feel. That's not to say, of course, that I would in any way prefer Monday to a weekend.
Earlier in my growing up days, I became quite familiar with the monster that ended the summer. Every time we began to return to Salt Lake City on our summer family 10,000 mile road-trips, a sinking feeling entered my stomach and swallowed my esophagus with the epiphany that the sun was beginning to set on that summer. And so it was, summer after summer. But with each sinking, there was hope and vivid imaginings of where the road would take us the following summer, indeed, a whole school year of dreaming.
So may it ever be with Mondays - mellowed by the acceptance of another weekend passed, but vibrant with the hope of another weekend to come (and that, with a beautiful wife), indeed, with every man's dreams on board.