It's Friday and the week is over and it's quiet. The quiet where you can only hear quiet. No sounds or movement. Just that ache of quiet.
It's Friday and I have thoughts racing in my mind and they shuffle, like little green, plastic soldiers. They march through my mind, back and forth and the stomping doesn't hush to a whisper but grows to a stampede.
It's Friday and my thoughts will slow while I share a glance with my husband or offer a helping hand to my child but as soon as I slow.....slow and stand...motionless....their pace picks back up and I stare. Sometimes at the wall and I blink.
That heavy blink that comes when you are tired and burdened but you really shouldn't be. The heavy lid that tells another you're quite finished.
It's Friday and I wonder why do we feel heavy when so much around us proves we should travel light?
No sense in the daunting revelry of painstaking worry.
But we choose it and choose it again.
Soldiers are let loose on the battlefield of our mind and instead of bringing them to a halt, we carry on and allow the senseless to continue.
It's Friday and I ask myself why I carry on to press towards something or someone that is not even standing there. Why do we try to make sense of the nonsensical or understand that which is chaos, if only we are left with tiresome result?
It's Friday and my lids are heavy and I am sighing and I am tired. I can almost feel my body yelling at me to stop and lay down and give in to the soldiers drum beat and the tired limbs and the heavy lids and the hurt of absence.
But I'll step outside now.
To the crystal blue water that awaits and the sounds of carefree laughter, dropping from the tounges of young and I'll get lost in the sun and the people and the reflection of the sky.
It's Friday and I will silence the footsteps and go outside and throw off the heaviness.
I will travel light, this weekend.