After a week of work and a weekend of social inactivity, Mondays are always a conundrum. Ever notice how the colors are brightest around you when the day is the dullest? But you have to step out of the moment at times to experience it fully. I can only ever chew on Mondays when I am not in them.
Mondays predictably are mundane. Reminding us of the repetitive cyclical nature of life; but sometimes this boring mundane Monday becomes our existence for the rest of the week...month...year. Is that because while Monday's are most dreaded, they are also the safest..? That shrouded in the dread of boredom and apathy, Mondays come to signify for us stability, routine, same-old packaged in a new week.
For once I wanted to experience Monday as a beginning. Not a fear but an excitement. Not the crawly "5 more days to go till Friday" dread, nor an anticipation of Tuesday.. just a warm regard for the day, as it is. All my days from September onwards, start with a foggy outlook and some clear up as the day progresses. Monday's however seem to have the foggiest outlook, not clearing the choking down my throat, even if the sun peers.
But this Monday was different. This Monday, the blue bird sang a song, no less sweeter than another day. The blue bird knows not weeks or days, just the moment. And in each moment, it re-invents life. Just as it re-invented all my Mondays from here on.
So much so that, Tuesday is here, and look at me - reminiscing the Monday blues :)
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