dear weekend.

a few years ago, i posted something on facebook about being so excited about the upcoming weekend that i could fuck it.

today, i'm so happy that friday is here, but i'd rather just spoon with it, have this weekend soothe me and cuddle with me, and maybe make out with me a little.

its been a tough week.  i cried for a while a few nights ago, which is unusual for me since i've been hopped up on meds. i've had friends who are going through turmoil and sadness, and i feel helpless in my inability to change things for them.  and there are no more african black rhinos in our world anymore; they've been declared officially extinct.

this news has really shaken me up.

every so often i get that deep, deep down feeling that we as humans have fucked ourselves so completely that there is nothing to do but watch the destruction and wait for things to end.  i feel ashamed to be a human being during these times.  it filters down into my gut and settles there for a while, and i try to find good things in front of me to help me climb back up again.

like the ob/gyn dancing seconds before her double mastectomy.

and the kindergarteners playing tailor-shop-on-fire/fire-station-fire-truck-rescue at school today: nineteen children working together in chaotic free play that exemplified the kind of education i believe in.

and my son making jokes about his blossoming acne, able to look through the annoyance and find the golden humor there.

my daugher immediately loving her first piano lesson, with her declaration of proficiency still ringing throughout the house.

the take-out from the veggie grill; vegan fast food and no cooking dinner.

watching episodes of "the americans", loving the suspense, loving felicity in such a kick-ass role.

listening to the sweet, wretched sounds of the chihuahua who is staying with us for a week, and watching him cuddle with my children.

all of these things are good things.  i know they are.  i know that if i can put them in front of me, caress them a little bit and breathe them deeply inside of me, i know that i'll be okay.

in the meantime, i'm going to take a hot, hot shower.  and then read to my son, snuggled down under the comforter on my bed.  and then eat some ice cream while watching tv.  and then fall into sleep; a deep, dreamless sleep that is a balm to my heavy-heartedness.

weekend, i ask for nothing less than a repair on my heart.