Friday in July

"I know that there is nothing better for them than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live; moreover, it is God's gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil." — Ecclesiastes 3:12-13

Friday does not mean what it used to mean but it still means something. When Earl was alive Friday meant the end of the work week and the beginning of the weekend and the difference between the two was real. Now the days are more alike than they are different but Friday still has a feeling to it, a looseness, as if the week has decided it has done enough and is going to stop asking things of me.

I did the last of the watering this morning and came inside and the house was clean because I cleaned it yesterday, which is a Thursday habit I have kept from the years when the house had more people in it and needed cleaning more often. Now it needs it less but I do it anyway because the habit is good for me and the clean house is good for Friday.

There are peaches at the stand on Route 11 and I might drive out this afternoon if the heat breaks enough to make the car bearable. Or I might not. That is the thing about Friday in July. Nobody is asking.

Lord, nobody is asking. That is enough.

Ruby keeps a collection of prayers at her kitchen table. You can find them here.