There are days when you wake up and have to be out the door before your head realizes your feet aren’t in slippers anymore. Days when the moments before you shut the garage door juggling a Statistics textbook in one hand and a piece of toast in the other are far too short, and the moments it takes before you’re home again are far, far too long. Those are the days when I decide in the morning that lunch is over-rated and nothing in my fridge sounds appealing enough to entice me to pack it, and then later in the afternoon I decide that applesauce was one of God’s greatest creations… pity it’s still in that fridge where I have “nothing to eat.” Those are the days when I hold my breath from the moment the clock strikes 8 till the very last words of Political Science have gone in one ear and out the other. Those are the days when I do the things that are before me, even if I don’t feel gripped with grand purpose in the moment, because I know they’re my choices, and they’re steps that are taking me somewhere. Those days are typically Monday to Friday.

Then there are other days… days when you get to wake up to faces you love, and head over to the donut shop in your PJs, bright red hoodie pulled over your need-to-be-washed hair, feet gladly still in those slippers too quickly discarded other mornings. These are the days when quarters get you the delight of well warn books off people’s front lawns, or mismatched pairs of vintage mugs. Even coffee smells better on these mornings. On these mornings I can sleep in forever, but somehow I always end up getting up earlier than I planned on. I don’t seem to mind because the day just seems to welcome me into it; I want to get up and share those moments, and see what delights lie behind a spontaneous decision. Hole in the wall Chinese shops, crossword puzzles in the Record Searchlight that are impossible to complete with the knowledge in my brain, and red stretches of off-road that don’t go anywhere other than to no-where places you’ve never been before.

These are days when I get to occupy the largest, most red chair in the coffee shop, and give one of those sighs that mean, “I have the best life in the whole world.” There will be more books at my feet than I can possibly read in one day, but that doesn’t matter. My perception that I live in the world’s finest town is probably a little biased and inaccurate, but that doesn’t matter either. Even the large pile of unanswered questions about my life that sit inside my brain like papers on an office desk, even those don’t matter. What matters is that I’m here… here to ask the questions and enjoy all the moments it takes to find the answers… here to get it right and then get it wrong, and then be confused and do it all over again. What matters is that sandwiched between all those days that end before I can get my too-full arms around them, there are these days that are slow enough to hold onto…

Today was was of those days.