It’s more than just Monday.
It’s an everyday thing.
Like the trees and the seasons.
Trees that stand guard and
seasons that change.
When I got in my little blue car
to drive away in 1988 I couldn’t
know that I would grow up for
32 years. I couldn’t know of all
the seasons that would pass, that I
would return to new growth and
growing in my family; carrying
all the ancestral bits of DNA of
an ever spreading family. Branches of an original tree. But for now, I hear the rustle of golden leaves,
stirred by the wind of a changing
season and know that I am home.
It’s more than just Monday.
It’s an everyday thing.
Like the trees and the seasons.
Trees that stand guard and
seasons that change.
“We can only be said to be alive in those moments
when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.”
~ Thornton Wilder
