Sunday afternoon. One of my favorite and least favorite times. Favorite in the sense that anything is possible and longs to happen. To rest, to be with friends, to be outside, even to reset your home and go to bed in warm, freshly washed sheets. So many possibilities. And yet, the fear of tomorrow. Of Monday, lingering in the mind. It is the subtle scaping of nails on a chalkboard. The lips of an undesired whisper on your ears. Nestled close. Too close, for any sense of comfort. I have often thought, or at least wondered if this feeling would go away. Even if I had the job I have always dreamed of. Even if it means waking up on Monday morning in my dream home in my dream city. Will that feeling always be there? Will the longing of anxiety ever stop visiting on a Sunday afternoon?
If it did stop, would I want it to? Or is the anxiety and the restlessness I feel on a Sunday afternoon actually exactly what I need? Does it cause me to dream a little more? Cause me to engage in conversations worth having, spent with friends I love with my whole heart? Does the longing in my chest for it to be Friday afternoon once more actually tell me something valuable? That the life I have, right here, right now, is beautiful and utterly worth the anxiousness I feel.
Monday morning, its promises, both welcome and needed. A fresh start. A new day. It comes with the promise of this: I can work hard and face challenging things. That those things are both necessary and good. Monday morning means a bleary eyed black coffee. A workout with sweat pouring down your face. It means a cold shower and getting dressed for work. Monday morning means discipline. And yet, imagine that first taste of coffee. Good, isn’t it? Imagine the way your lungs feel after breathing hard during that workout. Their fullness gives new meaning and excitement to easy breaths. Feels great doesn’t it? Imagine drying yourself off with that warm towel and putting on clean, crisp clothes. Monday morning is a foggy blue. The color of the sky just before dawn. A faded color, not jaded or tired, but preparing. Getting ready for a bright sky, for the sun to glare above and make the heavens its home.
It is here. This place. The Monday morning. Which means I can be grateful for Friday and Saturdays. For the Sunday mornings and afternoons. For the anxiety I feel, desperately wishing there was more time in the day.
Why? Because anxiety shows that I care. That I love, and dream, and hope. That I have a life that brings both value to those around me and within me. Sunday afternoon.
Saved things:
That is all for now. Have a restful Sunday, and an even better Monday:)