Lazy afternoons and slow evenings are my favorite type of weekend time. Long, languid hours spent picking out what tasks to do. Leisurely walks with the dogs. Overcast skies that turn to sunny shininess then back to overcast. Thinking about what I will conjure up for dinner. What time is the game on? Making time to write in that suspended space of not having to write but simply wanting to. Feeling the separation between day into night—how it envelopes the house slowly as the indoor lights go on. That glow of dusk, that undeniable feeling of sleep coming soon and knowing that sleep will blend into Monday—another week. It all wraps around me and soothes my racey mind. It calms and coddles my restlessness and casts a glowy reflection over things. Most of all, it settles me into the beauty of my routine and reminds me that the small, simple, predictable things are the way toward solace.
Look How Close the Light Seems,
Thelma the Thinker