“What do you look forward to every week?”
There’s a time on Wednesday nights when it hits me that I won’t be working the next day, like a ray of light that shines on me and I smile. I look forward to that feeling because it somehow creeps up on me every single week even though every single week it happens the same way.
It means I don’t have to set my alarm for 4:45.
It means I can stay up a wee bit later than I normally do.
It means I have more time with my wife.
It means I can see my children onto the school bus.
It means I can be Thursday’s Child again.
There’s a time on Thursday mornings when I roll over in bed and look at my alarm clock to see it shining back at me a gorgeous “6:30” or “7:15” or something in-between. It’s all glorious. Sometimes there’s a kid or two in bed with us, and sometimes not, but every time I take joy in those glowing numbers. They mean the day is yet young. They mean there is an expanse of time ahead where I can create.
See, that’s what I really look forward to every week, that time to create, a silence and space to breathe out my artistic passions with no real time limits. Sometimes I waste that time, but it’s always there waiting for me to appreciate it, to enfold it in my arms and embrace it like I know I should. Because it’s home.