Go Away Monday

As a child one of my favorite books was called Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. When I was having a hard time with something mom would read that to me and remind me that sometimes we all have a bad day. I am not sure why, but I have this mental image of reading it on rainy days.

It is kind of funny to think about. I tower over my mother now, but in these memories I can picture climbing up on the couch and wondering when I would be tall enough for my feet to touch the ground. What happened Mom, you used to be so much taller.

Anyway, today has been a particularly grueling Monday. It is the kind of day where I feel like I have been kicked in the teeth so many times I can identify the kind of shoe leather my gums have been intimate with.

There is a massive knot in my neck and my jaw aches from being clenched. Call me what you will, but right now I feel like Atlas has fooled me into taking over his job. And maybe he did, maybe it happened. I can’t say for certain that it didn’t.

‘Cuz today is one of those days where I look in the mirror and wonder when was the last time I was happy. When was the last time I felt true joy because all I seem to see are storm clouds. I look toward the future and I hear the thunder and lightning. I look to the left and the right and see a pair of twisters heading straight for me.

The siren is blasting and Robbie the Robot is yelling “Danger Will Robinson” and instead of being confident that Jack will handle it all like 007 I am worried that I’ll turn into Doctor Smith.

I am trying to maintain some perspective about it all. Last week was D’s birthday. He would have been 40. In a couple of weeks we’ll watch as the 11th anniversary of his death comes and goes. I am still here. I am still kicking and though it feels like I am being kicked I have the opportunity to get through it all, he didn’t.

At least that is the sort of rah rah speech I have given myself. That is part of a “Jack Special.” Whenever things have been rough I have always found a way through. I have tripped and stumbled, but I always came through. I don’t expect it to be any different this time.

But I’d be lying if I didn’t secretly hope that I’ll wake up and find myself sleeping on the old couch. I’ll stand up and walk into the kitchen and climb up onto the counter to see if my father’s blue Dodge Dart is parked in the driveway yet. If it is I’ll go racing through the house to find him, time for him to play with me. Or maybe I’ll just play with my Legos and Lincoln Logs and try to keep my baby sister from wrecking everything I build.

Go away Monday, I have had enough of you today.

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