It has been a long week--or week and a half--or three days. Attempting to live in the worlds of news and TV and college admissions and homemaking, sometimes, it's a little hard to tell how many hours have passed and when one day has turned into another and exactly where I'm supposed to be and what I'm supposed to think at any given moment.
This should matter--the blending of days, the lost track of exactly
where I am in a week. And yet, it has become so standard that as long as
I make sure I show up where I'm supposed to and kids are picked up when
they're supposed to be, I have stopped letting the meanings of days
phase me too much.
What, after all, is the meaning of a day, as long as you are doing good
or important things with it? What, after all, does it matter what time
it is, as long as you are doing what you want or need to do? What I am
learning, in my increasingly mashed up life, is to follow what needs to
be done, rather than following the calendar. What I am learning, in this
life that seems to change daily, is to look at my goals, rather than
looking at my watch.
There will certainly be times when I need to know exactly what day it
is. But on the other days, I just have to hope that getting through
whatever hours of whatever day it happens to be is quite enough.