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A Case of the Mondays

I think I like Mondays now.

Crazy, I know.

Something about this pandemic has made every opportunity for a fresh start seem even more important, even as the days seem to run together. I’ve started observing Monday as if it’s a Holy day – getting up early and breathing in a few moments of silence with my coffee as I reflect on the week past and the week ahead. It feels like a clean slate, a Monday morning, which is my favorite kind of slate. The latter half of the week and the weekend always get messy with loose ends and unread emails and lists of things to do – but then comes Monday, bright and clean and ready to be written on. 

I always thought I hated Mondays. The drag out of a deep slumber back into the world of the living, of the student, the employee. But in a time when there is so little structure – both in the world at large and in my personal world as a recent college graduate (living at home without a full time job) – a moment of refresh is more than welcome. Monday is a reminder to pause, in the way that weekends used to be. 

I saw a Tweet a few weeks back that said something to the effect of, “I can’t explain why but Thursday and 7pm have the same feeling.” It made so much sense to me. Thursday and 7pm share the momentum of being near the end of a long haul; you’ve gotten over the hump of the week and the day, and can begin to anticipate the beginning of a fun night or weekend. So, in the way that Thursday is 7pm, I’ve decided that Monday’s time-twin is 7am.

Monday is drinking that first cup of hot coffee and feeling the wheels in your brain lurch back to life. It’s the excitement of pulling out of the driveway at the start of a long road trip, snacks and guidebooks at the ready. It’s the first whiff of fall in the air, the calendar turning to September before a new year of school, ripping the tags off a brand new outfit before wearing it for the first time.

I realized recently that I spend a lot of time focusing on the endings of things, when I should really be focusing on beginnings. It’s beginnings that light me up and power me forward – probably why my favorite “season” for the past 18 years of my life has been “back to school.” August feels like an ending, but it’s also right before a new beginning. The “Sunday scaries” come right before Monday’s magic. Does it take an ending to truly appreciate a beginning?

I’m starting to think so.