Sleeping terribly the night before, I crawled through today. I stand now in my kitchen, the smell of Purification filling up air as it diffuses, listening to the sizzle of chicken as it cooks. I’m listening to the audiobook The Reckoning by John Grisham as I make dinner, Daisy running her races behind me (hoping I’ll drop some food, no doubt).
I want to sleep more than anything else. It feels like one of those days where all I want is to change into some pajamas and turn on the TV.
I’m waiting for a call from a dear friend and it’s the only thing I’m looking forward to this evening (besides going to bed). I wonder what the rest of my week will look like. Will I sleep better tonight? Will tomorrow be a more restful day?
Writing this, I’m frustrated to learn I simply have nothing to say. Because Mondays don’t feel like poetry or prose or meditation; they feel like that boring textbook we had to study to pass a grade. It is, quite frankly, boring, and I don’t have the energy to try to make it anything more than what it is.
Just a few moments ago, I pulled out all these ingredients to make dinner as the chicken finished cooking. It’s all sprawled out on my counter and I feel like an adult just looking at it. But, now that it’s all out, food spraying the countertop in anxious anticipation to be made into something whole, I realize I don’t have any energy to make anything and think about just putting it all back away.
Because that’s where I am today. I simply don’t feel like making anything… ingredients into a meal or a mundane Monday into a poem.
But, maybe, some things are best left as they are. Maybe we don’t have to create anything but just get to look at a thing for what it is. Maybe there is beauty found in the lettuce on my plate that won’t ever make it to anything else (at least not tonight). Maybe I get to see this Monday, while monotonous on its own, is part of a bigger and more beautiful thing: my one spectacular life.
Maybe the ingredients are already part of a whole.
And maybe it is okay to just leave them as they are.