Sometimes you lean on things too hard and they break. Other times, they just bend and bend and never get to that magic moment where the “snap” is audible and the anticipation of even a moment of brief satisfaction is drug-like all by itself. And sometimes, you’ve leaned so long that you forget you are leaning, and you fall over because the power of anticipation is mighty but tenuous.
You investigate the well of Saturday. Your eyes try to make out the ephemeral object that is just a little bit out of sight. It requires squinting. It requires a focus you can’t quite seem to nail on a blustery morning and even operating your body’s God-given equipment is just a bit too much. The well of Saturday is deep and the possibilities of a day off are endless.
It’s not overwhelming, though. You thought I would say that, but it isn’t. It’s not underwhelming, either. Heavily whelmed, maybe. The whelming of wells, sigh, is often unstudied.
The well of Saturday exists, existentially I think, in all of us.
During most of the week, it is more like a ghost. You get the occasional glimpse in your peripherals. Where is it, you wonder. Where is it going? Will it be there when I get to where I think I will find it? How deep will it be?
You might that some people get to the well and drink from its gnarly old bucket to their health and the happiness of others. You might call these the lucky ones. Oblivious to their daily struggles on preceding, well-less days, their carefree spirit allows the contents of the well to spill out of their smiling mouths and drip onto their clothes, the ground, and who knows where else. Maybe the drops of Saturday cling to their shoe laces or between their toes.
We require this well to refresh us. We need its calm, but we also forget how easy it is to casually toss things into it all week, too. We take it for granted and ignore that a well can also be filled in.
If you toss the right things in, the water rises and is easier to get to when you need it. Get careless, though, and the well of Saturday dries up and becomes just another day. Another-day is not your friend.
Anotherday is a waste of time, like the word “try” or “maybe.” Anotherday is the worst day because it doesn’t have a well to draw from when you need it. It’s just got all the stuff you thought you avoided. Anotherday can go jump off a cliff.
But lets not think of these things on a day like today. I can see the well. The water is flowing down there. It will be cool and tasty, for sure. I don’t even need to see the bottom to feel good about it.
The well of Saturday beckons. What’s in the bucket today? Here’s to your bucket being full, too. We all need a drink of something good for us.
See you tomorrow.
Several years ago, our little Cat, Cy, died. This popped up on my Facebook memories today. She was a sweetheart. She will always have a place in my heart.