I wanted to write an epic post for Sunday morning.
This is not that post.
Instead, it is the hastily-scribbled-out ramblings of a Thursday lunch break, scrawled on an issue of Metroland as I was distracted and mesmerized by the shifting clouds of a Spring day that alternated infuriatingly between sunny blue skies and gray pop-up showers. The day, like the writer, felt a little lost – the way things get when Winter weather refuses to completely yield to Spring. Still, this is far from a complaint, given how good we’ve had it weather-wise in 2012.
As I stare out the window of my favored café, I realize I’m doing it again – jumping ahead to Sunday afternoon even though the weekend hasn’t even begun – and I force myself to slow it all down, to live in the moment. I want to make the most out of a weekend in Boston with my husband, and part of that means being fully aware and cognizant of the moment at hand.
A pair of ‘Downtown Albany’ workers walks into the café, an unavoidable presence in their oversized fluorescent-yellow vests, lined with shiny reflector strips. They order their usual coffees, making a bit of friendly small talk, and then return to the street cleaning tasks outside. That ubiquitous song “We Are Young” plays on the radio ~ the Thursday promise of a coming weekend hangs in the air. And by the time this entry is posted, it will almost be over.