The Last Day

The Last Day
By John R. Greenwood

It's the last day of my vacation. I go back to work bright and early tomorrow morning-5am to be exact. Mondays are hectic. The earlier you start your day the better. 

Its Sunday morning and I finally got out to my corner yard writing desk. It's a six foot picnic table angled toward the intersection on the corner where I live. It's early enough to still be relatively quiet. You can hear the hum of cars on distant Route #9 fade off as they head south toward Saratoga or north to Glens Falls. A crow caws a mouthy refrain in the maple above my head. An occasional clink and clank of another early riser taking out the trash echoes through the wooded backyards. It's a collection of quiet noises that seem to calm me Iike the coo of a newborn baby. 

For the moment life is good at my outdoor desk. It was a long week. I accomplished a lot. I finished some long overdue projects. I tackled a few unplanned ones. It would be nice to have another week off, or "maybe not," my back whispers. 
In this life of seven miles over the speed limit its easy to lose sight of why we're here and what we should be doing. There is no rule book per say. We all choose our own path. What I have discovered in the last few years is that there is good and bad in every day. Moments of anger, regret, thankfulness, and down right joy. It's what you see and how you see it that matters. Passing judgement comes back at you. Sometimes the moccasins of others hurt our feet. There are many days when living in a glass house, in a hail storm, can be frightening. The best path I've found is to remain open to whatever is around the next corner. There is no perfect answer. If you vow to never utter another curse word, rest assured a hammer blow to the thumb is minutes away. Just as you swear off sweets in pursuit of those six-pack abs, the aroma of fresh baked coffee cake will come seeping out of Mrs. G's kitchen. 


Remain calm and resilient, flexible and true to your core beliefs. Know that time spent mowing the lawn will be rewarded by an evening view through the screen door- complete with the scent of fresh cut fescue soaking in an evening dew. 

Yes, it's back to work tomorrow, but then again I have to buy a new pad and pencil, they don't grow on trees you know. 

Congress Park
Saratoga Springs, New York