Parting with you is so very bittersweet. I usually don’t acknowledge the imminence of your departure because it’s too painful. My weeks are nothing to dread – no laborious job, no duties I despise – but there’s an element of freedom that begins to build come Friday which rarely makes an appearance during the work week.
You offer unconstrained time. Hours are strung together with nothing to hold them hostage. You are like a blank canvas waiting to be splashed with colors and textures of the artist’s own choosing. Spontaneity is your medium, and there are no rules.
As a planner, I find your unscheduled-self refreshing. I can be the author of chaos or calm. Whatever I choose you will most certainly oblige. With such manners, it’s no wonder why people, like myself, love you.
I love how I can sleep in, read a book for hours, and watch too much Downton Abbey all on your time without feeling guilty. I love how you have a time for worship, community, service, and fellowship. I love that there is time to be still and time for adventure.
All this to say, I can’t bear to bid farewell. Even knowing that ours is only a temporary parting does not ease the sense of loss that Monday brings. Please slip away quietly and be swift in your return.
You can find all my letters here.
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