Day As Well

On the weeks that fly by,

and the evenings that arrive before I’m ready,

so that 6pm might as well be 11pm,

and then it’s nearly midnight and I’m not really sure what there’s time to do.

It’s on those nights that I sometimes decide not to write.

Not to write here.

But it’s 4pm and I’m sitting in Barnes and Noble,

watching cars drive too-fast through the intersection below,

and I’m writing, now.

It’s almost the end of 2014

(although I wrote 2015 just now, in that line above)

and it occurred to me on Sunday,

sitting under the pale white light of a church morning sky,

to wonder what it is that I’ll remember 2014 for.

Of course, my first thought was the my Little Book-

the increasingly battered miniature notebook

I’ve carted around in my bookbag, my purse, my suitcase,

these past nearly-12 months.

I could check there, of course.

To remind myself.

But there’s a part of my mind that knows, of course,

that I might just as well give a moment,

or maybe several moments,

to consider, to reflect upon,

what I made of this past year, and what it made of me,

and what I’d like to come of the next.

Maybe I’ll do that, here in the next days and weeks.

I realized today, suddenly and rather joltingly, that my student teaching

begins in one week from today.

January 5th.

Of course, I’ll not begin teaching for some days after that,

but a first is a first, and to just have a week feels rather abruptly short.

But really, a year is one week, just over and again,

and they all build on one another,

and I think that in this middle week-

these seven days that span the end of a year,

the beginning of another,

the end of Christmas break,

the beginning of student teaching,

the end, the end, the beginning, again a beginning,

I think I’ll make the same choices today- these days-

that I’d like to make all the other days, as well.

Because I’m not moving through these to get to the others;

each day and each week has 24 hours of value and depth,

decisions that will be made,

memories that will take shape.

And so, this Monday, December 29th,

while the grey clouds settle deeper over the shadowed buildings,

and the people move and stand

and read and shop

and lose and breathe,

I go and I live

and this day, this beginning day, this middle day, this ending day,

could also be a very good day, as well.



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