Mondays

Yes, we still have to get up and get busy. 7:15 a.m. and I am already late for everything. I never used to feel this pressure on my chest and this stiffness in my joints. I wake up as if I haven’t rested. I dream all night it seems.

I pray when I can for my friends. George and diabetes. Carl and cancer. Helen and her eyes. Gary and scoliosis. Cliff and his thyroid. Joe’s PTSD. Everybody had something different. Now we have the same thing.

FEAR.

It is Monday. I am getting ready to sing again. When I sing, my heart floats up to God. I feel happy, invigorated and satisfied. It is as if I am ok regardless of everything. I just wish that I had better breath control, a wider range, more training, a million things. I am supposed to just be happy. Perfectionism is a painful thing, it is a rash. The more you scratch, the more it itches.

Leave it behind.

Everything takes so much longer on Mondays. We have to catch up.with the work avoided over the weekend. We have to talk to Maria about her divorce proceedings and to Jeff about his new car. Manny has a new girlfriend, and Janice thinks that she is gay because she thinks that there is more beauty in the female body. All of this stuff is still happening, COVID-19 or not.

Thank you God.

It’s past ten and I still haven’t finished rehearsing song 1. So Cruel by U2.

Time to work.

 

 

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