Joy is watching my 17 month old niece waddle-run down the hill toward a playground with her arms thrown up in the air. What is there to say about joyful days? Except that you always wish they would never end.
The weekend brought me from Binghamton to Corning to Pittsburgh to Corning to Binghamton. Weirdly enough it all felt like going home.
All I could think was that weekends should always be 3 days, weekends should make you feel like you have forever, like the time will never end. I kept repeating to myself a quote from Frances Hodgson Burnett in the Secret Garden:
“One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever and ever. One knows it sometimes when one gets up at the tender solemn dawn-time and goes out and stands out and throws one’s head far back and looks up and up and watches the pale sky slowly changing and flushing and marvelous unknown things happening until the East almost makes one cry out and one’s heart stands still at the strange unchanging majesty of the rising of the sun — which has been happening every morning for thousands and thousands and thousands of years.”
