Monday Morning

It’s another Monday morning on campus. It’s a little past 6am and a couple of the girls are already dressed and have eaten. Some haven’t gotten up yet. Bacon is in the oven and the newspaper hasn’t come yet (which is unusual). The morning is muggy and promises another hot day with a good breeze.
I was struck this morning (yes, I do some of my best thinking this time of day) that there are only a finite number of Monday mornings left for me. Let’s see. Assuming I have about 25 years left in my life, there are only about 1,000 Monday mornings left for me to enjoy.
Now, when I think of it that way, Monday mornings carry a whole new meaning. Where they used to be something to dread…going into work, drudgery of another week, etc…now they are something to be cherished and savored. I want to soak up the experience, knowing that it will all too quickly be over.
When the boys were in high school, we had a young man stay with us who needed a home. He was the same age as our sons and was a joy to have around. One spring when the young man and our older son were seniors, our younger son was a sophomore. They all had vehicles that they drove to school. For a time in the spring of that year, I scraped the frost off the windows and started each of the cars for them a couple of minutes before they came out to leave. I checked fuel levels and put some gas in a tank if I needed to. I’d check the oil sometimes, look at the tires, etc.
I will probably always remember that time in the spring of 1998 when I did that. It was nothing, really, but it was something to me. And yet, even as I was scraping frost, I knew that all too quickly, it would all be over, the boys would be leaving, and I would be left with memories.
I don’t know how old you are. I don’t know how many Monday mornings you have left. Neither do you. This may be your last. Find something in it to savor and appreciate.