Thursday, April 17, 2014

On a Thursday

The calendar says it’s just a Thursday before a holiday weekend, but today was too special to be just anything.  I survived my position at the front desk of a large CPA firm. I survived tax season.  And while I have a couple of weeks of part-time days ahead of me, I’m transitioning back into my life at home.

This morning, instead of moving quickly to dress, eat, and gather what I need for the day, I poured my coffee into a cup with no lid, letting the aroma breathe.  I noticed how the sun caught the tips of the snapdragons on the counter, who were seeking refuge from an late spring freeze.  I washed breakfast dishes at leisure while my kids played in the other room.  I let all my favorite lyrics be acknowledged and heard, in the way they should.  And love is not a victory march, it’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah.   It was only us, my favorite songs, the morning chit chat of the feathered ones, children playing, the hum of the washing machine… the chorus of home.

I made bread that required four hours of rising, it seems a necessary ritual.  As the flour, yeast, salt, and water were mixed and allowed to rest, I pulled out my paints during nap time.  The brush danced with glee in my hand.  And my husband, he noticed. It’s like you’re back. Oh, I know, I felt it too.

I’m a huge believer in seasons and how even the unexpected ones are so important.  We play the roles we must and we face the tasks given with confidence.  And you know, sometimes, we’re really good at things we never considered, but it’s not who we are.  It doesn’t have to be. You can fake it till to you make, but there is never a substitute for our truest selves.  

So on a Thursday, when enough of the noise cleared and the minutes lingered, that primal instinct of my soul would not be silenced.  Dough was kneaded. Garlic was slow roasted to sweet perfection. Flowers were arranged. Lunches were made. A paint brush danced in my hand. My fingers fluttered about the keys. 

Today the creative energy burst forth from the damned walls of business hours and exhaustion, staking claim once again.

And it was good. So good.



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