Mr. Monday Morning

Among the Calypso songs that have endured with me for lo many years is Mr. Monday Morning. It begins with the sound of KNOCK KNOCK then "Who that at my door?" "MR. MONDAY MORNING!?

Well he's certainly knocking at my door this day after the Thanksgiving week of football and dead space on the so called news networks.

Years of showing up, saluting and beginning another cycle of work have carved deep tracks of habit in my psyche. Habits are not just doing thingys but also of feeling, even thinking.

Habits bring the comfort of familiarity. Familiarity, while it may breed contempt, also breeds feelings of safety. I am reminded during my father's last night on this earth in Tulsa, Oklahoma looking up to see an Emory cap on the nurse coming for the night shift and I felt safe.  I really wish nurses had not stopped the delightful practice of the unique cap.

I observe Sweet Alex and Claudette performing their morning rituals, I imagine to the same purpose.

In these years of the unpredictablilty of body and mind Mr. Monday Morning's call is to learn something new, innovate and carve some more tracks. He reminds me there are yet things to show up for.

Most of my life I eschewed the safe, always seeking the better. Now I am not so anxious for the better.