I adore Tuesday mornings.
I work part time, but I always get Tuesday off because of a conflict with a standing appointment. Normally, I usually have to be somewhere by 9 a.m., be it work, church, or somewhere else. Not on Tuesdays, though. For a few hours, I can remain in the quiet of our home, with nowhere to go.
Every Tuesday, I do something I don’t generally get to do: have a leisurely breakfast while looking out the window. On a normal day, I eat cereal while standing over the sink, if I eat breakfast at all. On this one day of the week, however, I get to actually prepare myself something nice. I prefer simple breakfasts, so it generally ends up being egg (cooked in an egg coddler), toast, and fruit if I have it, with a small pot of tea (usually Earl Grey but sometimes I have Irish Breakfast). And I sit at the table for a long while, sipping and eating.
It’s not that this is the most wonderfully tasting breakfast ever. (Because it’s not.) It’s the fact that, for a little while, I have no immediate demands on my time or attention. There’s no scheduled writing, praying, shopping, visiting, whatever, to be done. I can just sit for a little while.
When I was in high school, I used to spend a lot of time staring out the window, looking at the fields and swamp. I watched the vultures flying by, as well as the occasional song bird and hawk. I admired the way sunlight glittered and dappled through trees. My mind wandered, dreaming up plots for stories or lines for poetry. When I began college, I lost all ability and time to do that.
Tuesday mornings, for that brief hour or so, feels like a release. A stepping back to a simpler time, when I was more able to appreciate the world around me. People look outside for a second and say, “Oh, what a lovely morning.” Then, they go about whatever it is they need to do. They looked. They acknowledged. But did they appreciate? Did they savor it? A certain amount of peace wells up when a person appreciates the things of nature, and it becomes easier to see beauty and goodness in other things, in other places.
I guard my Tuesday mornings jealously. It is a sacred time. Not sacred in the sense of worship but sacred in that it is special. Set apart. I think that if more people had times that were sacred, if they paused to look and appreciate, there would be less depression and pain in this world.