Today started slowly. It was a Monday that felt very much like a Sunday. I inched my way to meet the day. Waking and sleeping and then waking again. I worked for most of the weekend and Sunday was a day scheduled to the gills. So today, we slid slowly into the day.
It was a day spent in pajamas. On the couch watching old reruns of our favorite tv shows. We had whatever we wanted for breakfast that was really brunch. I spent the better half of eleven o'clock reading the Sunday paper. For whatever reason, we ignored the calendar because today was our Sunday.
There were a million things I could have done. I could have spent the afternoon writing. The laundry baskets line the path to the laundry room. The dishes are drying on the counter. Clean clothes wait for hangers. But instead, we were too blind to see those things today. Instead we focused on dolls and construction paper chains, and books that we have read a million times.
I feel like summer will pass us by. So quickly, since it took so long to get here. It's like Summer never really unpacks it's bags. Like it's always waiting for a midnight train or the red eye. Summer is a tease and a flirt and shows us the very best part of itself, right before it breaks our hearts and leaves. It's like the love song that is never long enough, the love story with no specific ending. It gives us just a taste, before it leaves us, always wanting more.
So it's our only option to spend our days slowly melting into the summer days. Before they are a memory. Letting the clock tick and the dishes sit, and wearing yesterdays clothes because you slept in them. Staying up way too late because the sun isn't ready for the moon's kiss, and because we are never ready to say goodnight to another summer day.
Because before we know it, we will have to say goodbye, goodbye to the sweet surrender of a slow and languid summer day.
