Bookends

I've made a tentative and temporary commitment every Saturday morning this month at 8 a.m.
Can a 'commitment' really be tentative and temporary? Probably not.

Anyway, the point of my point is that I decided to get up at 6:15 a.m. on a Saturday morning, to get ready, leave my house at 7:00 a.m. to be 'in town' to attend this pseudo-commitment by 8:00 a.m.
This seemed like a fine idea when I made it.
I have Saturdays off.
I'll get in town nice and early, maybe take myself out for a nice breakfast afterward.
Have the whole day ahead of me.
(You have to read those last three lines with a trilly sing-song lilt to your voice, like this is the best idea ever and you don't have a care in the world.)
So Friday night comes and I know I should be heading to bed, early morning and all that. But I'm not tired. Read in bed for a while, still not tired. Turn off the light, wait for a bit. Still not tired.
Did not get much sleep at all. From beginning to end. Even if you could piece all the little snippets of dozing off together.
The alarms shrills at 6:15. A.M. What was I thinking? I do not want to get out of bed. I do not want to get dressed. I do not want to do this.
I grumble tumble my ass out of bed. 'I need to go to at least one so I'll know if it's worth it every other Saturday this month.' Right?
I splash water over my head. Eat something left over from yesterday and start my car.
It's still frickin' dark outside. What the hell.
I'm fifteen minutes late getting started on my hour drive. 7:15 and it's still DARK!
"Just do it once and then you'll know."
I console myself with the sure knowledge that there is going to be no traffic from here all the way into town at 7:20 on a Saturday morning.
Right?
Right?
On the way, I start across the Purdy Spit when I notice this color in the sky that I rarely see. Purple. Deep, deep blue clouds against a lightening violet sky with pink streaks swiped across is sweeping strokes. Morning.
I don't see morning like this very often. The couple of trees leaning inward along the Purdy Spit are silhouette black against the wakening sky. Very cool. Striking.
I hit the on ramp to 16 and the striking nature of nature is lost by the survival instinct not to get killed in traffic. Watch the road. Pay attention. Drive safe. Check. Check. Check.
I attend my early morning function with a feeling that I may do this again next week. We'll see. I'll reserve judgement.
I proceed through my day that is to include a good deal of driving, visiting, laughing, driving, waiting, talking and driving. Picking up, dropping off. Shopping, wrapping. Parking and driving.
When the meat of my long day is behind me and I'm finally headed home from town, I'm driving back across the Purdy Spit and I notice the color of the sky. Purple.
Deep, deep blue clouds against a darkening violet sky with pink streaks swiped across is sweeping strokes. Evening.
Same trees leaning toward the roadway, away from the water, warped by the wind over the years. Dark and skulky in silhouette against the sky that is nodding off for the night.

From the book ends of my day, I'm grateful for the symmetry of nature.

From the heart of my day, I am grateful for the honor of knowing my daughter. She is one of the most amazing and cool people I have ever met. I am indeed a fortunate woman to know her.