Sometimes intelligible ramblings from a former teacher, publisher, aerospace worker, barmaid, and waitress
Monday, August 10, 2009
Monday Mornings
I love Monday mornings. It's like getting to start all over again. No unfinished business, no regrets. Just a beautiful sunrise, another chance to get it all right.
I love Basquiat. Gorgeous, creative, troubled, drug-addicted. A model of what not to do. But oh so brilliant. Reminds me of my birth mother.
In my life I've waited tables, raised sons, taught school, published books, and railed at politicians. I'm building a house, next to my son, where I can spend time with my granddaughter. I read, write, and dream about being immortal.
3 comments:
The clean-slate-syndrome.
Love the poignant insight in your second comment.
It somewhat surprises me how much my biological mother seems to figure in my thoughts these days. Maybe she's thinking of me too?
Only retired people love Monday mornings. Bah humbug.
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