"What is today?"
"The first day of the week. The best week of the year."
"No. You're still not getting me."
"That's all I know. Please tell me there's nothing else."
"We're going to have to get on the same page."
"What other page could there be?"
"What's the second habit?"
"Begin with the end in mind. You're killing me."
So maybe this end is late Friday or early Saturday or Wednesday afternoon or Thursday night.
Maybe it never ends or does twenty years from now.
Today I am already grateful for early Saturday when I ache from running, squatting, lifting, carrying, cussing, acting like a fool, missing free food, reading texts, sharing laughs, hoping I offend only a few, and getting the work done because what else would we do.
He used to sing this, and I used to wish it was me.
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