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Weekending

I swung out of bed the moment my fan moved, leaving my bed a shocked deserted lover. I imagined its eyes and jaws hung open; dazed mind whirling to find words, bobbing Adam’s apple worrying to unclog emotions stuck somewhere in its throat. My bed doesn’t understand that I’ve spent the last few hours of dusk in conscious sleep, with eyes closed and mind awake; anticipating electricity. I raced for my laptop and schedule book; there was a long to-do before power was seized again. A lot to do before the sky brightened with shades of blue.

As today progresses, I would tidy my room, do my laundry, fix the strap of the expensive bag a toddler thought a toy, and have two meetings. I would do these before dusk, because then I would celebrate the successes of the week with a different kind of grind; the type that loosens bunched muscles, and numbs overworking mind. The agenda would be lots of laughter, wild imaginings, and crazy talk.

Tomorrow, I would have another set of two meetings, and travel to another State. If traffic is light, I should have a third meeting before night shuts the day down. In the middle of all these, I hope to remember food, or at least to feed when my stomach tells me that we are hungry.

Once upon a time, the weekend was for sleeping, eating, and lounging. Those days became history when life became too short, and 24 hours too not enough, to set two days apart for lounge. Because life is too uncertain to not make dreams come true the moments I have, the “present”. The future is an unknown space, I cannot shelter my dreams therein.

So yes, cheers to the weekend, and the dreams it makes come true!

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