Monday morning, our alarm always goes off far-too-early and I force myself into a sitting position so that I won’t fall back asleep and be late for the bus and then late for our French class.
Asli throws French questions at us and we stare back blankly, willing our brains to wake up, feeling the cogs slowly turn, creaking and squeaking, until finally the words we were looking for tumble out, probably in the wrong order, but they’re there at least.
Sometimes we steal half an hour for a coffee after class, before Rasmus goes in to work, but this week looks busy, lots to do, tasks to cross off lists, businesses in need of success. So I catch the bus home instead, feeling a little guilty for not walking home in the beautiful sunlight, but it’s still cold outside and I don’t have a good spring jacket.
In the door, my stomach is rumbling (I wasn’t up earlier enough for a good breakfast) so I feed it with rye bread and blackberry jam and then hoist the laundry basket that has been waiting to be taken downstairs onto my hip and negotiate the lift down to the basement.
It’s still Monday morning, and I’m still sleepy. The week stretches ahead of me, and as I finish my daily morning scan of twitter, facebook and my favourite blogs, I wonder,
what is it I plan to do
with my one wild and precious life?
because it is now. So I need to begin now.
What do I need to do this week, for me to be able to say next Sunday evening, yes, this was a week well-lived. This was a week lived to the full, this was a wild and precious week lived with purpose…
