This Saturday starts just like any other day, with a few exceptions to note. I had an amazing cup of coffee. True coffee lovers will tell you it isn't real if it's decaf, but I beg to differ since it tastes like the real thing. My blaring cell phone alarm didn't go off and I didn't have to hit snooze approximately 5 times before I decided to crawl out of bed. The desire to leave the warmth of my thick and cozy comforter to prepare myself for a week of work is never as exciting as the alternative. What is the alternative? The weekend, of course. For whatever reason leaving the comforts of my comforter feel different on Saturday & Sunday. Go figure...
Snow fell overnight. I know because there is a different and special brightness coming from my bedroom window and in all honesty, I checked the weather app to make sure my prediction was right.
It's 8:15 a.m.! For me, that exclamation speaks volumes as I rarely sleep in this late. My body has grown accustomed to the hustle and bustle of the work week when I am typically up around 6:30 every morning. If my body needs rest on the weekend, I allow myself enough grace to absorb all that I can before my mind starts to get busy and lost in thousands of whirly twirly ideas I can come up with before Monday creeps back around like the stalker it is.
During this time of the year, it feels so grey and boring. I feel as if I am looking at the world through a black-and-white distorted lens. The birds aren't chirping, the flowers aren't blooming and everything is dormant. In my selfishness, I long for all the things to be vibrant and beautiful around me because I know it allows my happiness to soar at an all-time high. Pushing my desires aside, I learned to appreciate the beautiful process that all things must take in order to come back stronger and better than ever. There is a time for rest that is necessary for the rebirth of all things.
Mentally and physically preparing for the weekend because that's what you do when you have an overactive imagination. My niece wanted to spend the weekend with me. She's a teenager now so the interactions are different. The conversations are starting to change and I can see the growth. I see my younger self in her and I'm excited for her life. The hindsight is a gift. You always hear how time flies, and it's so amazingly true.
If you stop and smell the roses long enough you can see what it's all about. What the reasons are for simply being and living a life of purpose, smothered and covered in peace. God is good, life is good, the journey is good, the experiences are good. I realize it's all in what you make it to be with a perfectly executed weekend to match.
It's a phenomenon that many people experience, this inexplicable emotional connection to inanimate objects. Some call it sentimental value, while others might label it as irrational attachment. Whichever way you perceive it, there is no denying the power these objects hold over our hearts and minds.
For me, it was always the clothes that held the strongest grip on my emotions. Each piece represented a chapter in my life, a memory I could touch and feel. The faded favorite slim blue jeans I wore every week, the tattered tank top that reminded me of a carefree summer, or the worn-out sweater that had seen better days. They were all threads in the tapestry of my life, intertwined with the fabric of my memories.
But as time passed and my closet grew more cluttered, I realized that holding onto every single item was becoming an overwhelming task. The symphony of chaos that played whenever I opened my closet doors had become a burden, a constant reminder of the emotional weight I carried.
AJ is a creative writer and storyteller writing from her home in Indiana.
"This is how you do it; you sit down at the keyboard and you put one word after another until it's done. It's that easy, and that hard." -Neil Gaiman