Mondays

Mondays mean so many different things to different people. For a young mother with wild kids, it's a break from being a full-time mom and her day starts right after the monsters are packed off for school. For me, Mondays mean yearning for Fridays. Were I a full-time novelist, I'm sure Mondays wouldnt mean anything...the deadline would mean everything. For my aged granny, it means a fear of unrealised expectations, of going all the way to come back halfway... of psychos at the other end of a victim trying to lead a normal life. For my mother, it means a busier day than yesterday... and I'm sure she's looking forward to next week already. For my sister, it means a five minute drive to work and an 8-hour hellish day with angry feelings rising from the tips of her hair-roots to the very tip of her toes. She looks forward to six o'clock as weekends just mean Sundays to her. For my dad, Mondays are as briskly gotten over with as possible...although he's had a two-day weekend holiday in a very long time. He's retiring this September...time enough for him to stop manically rushing to and fro.

Mondays are a time for me to get off writing from my heart and employ my brain to work overtime struggling with words.