Same Old Tuesdays
Tuesdays often feel the same.
The morning routine:
hopefully feed myself too.
The drive to school:
twists and turns on a country road,
traffic backed up just a bit
where the creek passes under the highway,
and I follow the creekside path
only to emerge back into suburbia
where traffic lights, grocery stores,
and rows of houses in between
mark my way.
It’s a faster drive back,
the traffic is thin on the highway heading north
so I forego the scenic for the efficient.
The events on the calendar:
cycle through the day
as though I needed them to remember.
Perhaps a visit to the chiropractor will realign
the time as weeks seem to flow into one another.
The steady stream of routine
comforts an anxious mind.
But today I have the urge to rewind,
look back in time, and I find
that even after all these same old Tuesdays,
everything is different.