monday
November 16, 2015 § 2 Comments
Today dawned gray and damp, winter chill seeping into the morning air. In quiet rebellion of Monday’s burdens, we lingered beneath our bedding and fought off the minute hand with heavy eyelids.
Rain coats too thin for the cold and fall jackets ill-fitting the dampness, it is an uncomfortable in-between. Our shoes slosh with the inconvenience of persistent puddles and our hands tuck cautiously in determined resistance.
It is a day for heavy blankets and long books, old movies and afternoon naps. Except that my children can no longer hide from responsibilities beneath living room forts and make-believe adventures.
Instead we venture past the dampness toward daydreams of day’s end; their forms bent against routine and their minds clouded with remnants of sleep.
scribblechic 
Oh, this one makes me a bit melancholy. I feel like us adults miss out on the same thing when we have to head to work each day. Blankets, forts, reading–the comforts of home.
In these moments my inner child fails in her performance of maturity; I pouted stubbornly Monday over the injustice of lost rainy day whimsy.