That's Why I'm Here

Most Mondays begin full of dread because you don't want to go back to work again.

You want to be off ... be yourself ... do what you want ... live!

Other Mondays are depressing because there's nothing to do ... no job requiring your presence ... family demands ... or lover's coos to share preciousness.

Some Mondays commence with hope as you can't wait to get at it again ... work brings you joy ... co-workers were missed ... you've figured out the problem ... or it's just better than home.

Occasional Mondays are allow for musing, contemplation, thinking and prayer ... when there's the time and focus to wonder ... about everything.

Regardless, Monday's have a way of throwing more curve balls at you than any other day.

It's the most hated day of the week.

50% of everyone is late for work on Mondays.

Less is accomplished on Mondays than any other day of the week ... including Fridays.

More people die on Monday than any other day of the week.

All that to say, I woke up pretty chipper this morning though Sarah and the girls struggled to get off to school and work and as they rushed out everyone managed to say "I love you's" and "Have a great day!"

It's a glorious day with a limp flag hanging over the marsh, a flat Ocean, warm temperatures, lush green vegetation and blue skies.

Just as I turn on the music, fire up the computer and get ready to create ... the phone buzzes and I learn a friend I talked to last night has died.

The bell on the computer rings at the same time and I learn another friend has died too.

I text Sarah who's busy working.

No one's home so I rely on my "Fall-Back-consistent-Go-To" strategy ... and take Goddess for a walk.

"Damn," I say to our dog, "I wasn't ready for this."

Turning the corner from the Marsh to the Back River, I wonder why it was their time and not mine?

Rounding the curve from Back River to 13th, I know it's time to go to work and see what I can do ... for those left behind ... because there's absolutely nothing I can do for those who've gone.

"Maybe that's why I'm still here," I tell Goddess as I let her in the house and grab the car keys.