MONDAYS

I gave up my bitching on Mondays.
It served me no useful purpose.
Today is a bright sunshiney day.
It is a balmy day in November.
This day is an unexpected gift.
It's a glorious Monday.
I read my paper on this fine, Monday morning.
I read about the loss of a young life.
She was only twenty-three years old.
I looked at her picture.
A beautiful blonde.
Smiling.
Vivacious.
All of the sudden, my phone rang.
It was my twenty-eight year old daughter.
She was in tears.
My daughter taught school with this unfortunate young lady.
The dead girl was a special education teacher.
She died in a freakish accident on Saturday.
I thanked God this was not my child.
I cannot imagine how this girl's parents must feel.
This Monday is sadly dark for them.
My child is safe.
The sun shines warmly on my face today.
I have no right to complain about my Monday.
I have no right to complain about any day.
I promised myself to call my daughter this evening.
I want to share her grief.
Tonight, before I go to bed I will give thanks.
My Monday was a gift.