I Didn’t Spend Tuesday Dreading Wednesday

For years, I’ve spent a good part of my life looking forward to what’s next.

On Monday, I’m already thinking about Friday. By Wednesday, I’m telling myself the week is halfway over. Friday finally arrives, and I’m ready to enjoy the weekend I’ve been waiting for.

But somewhere along the way, usually before Sunday even gets here, I start thinking about Monday morning.

It’s a strange way to live. I spend five days wishing the weekend would hurry up and get here, then spend part of the weekend thinking about how soon it will be gone.

Vacations aren’t much different. I can look forward to a few days away for weeks, only to find myself thinking about packing up and heading home before the trip is even over.

And retirement? That’s just the biggest version of the same thing. I’ve even counted the weeks until I get there.

But something happened during a few recent days off that showed me I don’t always have to live this way.

It started with a night away with my wife. We went out to dinner, enjoyed ourselves, and for once I wasn’t thinking about the drive home the next day.

That may not sound unusual, but it is for me. I’ve been known to mentally check out of a trip before it’s over. I start thinking about getting home, unpacking, and returning to the normal routine, even though there’s still plenty of time left to enjoy.

This time was different. We were out together, enjoying our evening. Tomorrow could wait.

Then came some time with the grandsons.

One day, when they came over, I made up my mind that whatever those boys wanted to do, I was going to do it. Before long, I was pitching wiffle balls and running around the yard.

I wasn’t watching the clock or thinking about what else needed doing. We were just having fun.

Then came Tuesday.

It was my last day off before going back to work on Wednesday. Usually, that’s enough to put a damper on things. My mind starts drifting toward the alarm clock, the drive to work, and another stretch of days before Friday rolls around again.

But that Tuesday, my wife and I took our two grandsons to the lake for lunch and a little fishing.

We were sitting at a picnic table eating McDonald’s chicken nuggets, which those boys love for reasons I’ll never understand, when my five-year-old grandson looked up and announced, “This is the best picnic ever!”

It was a fast food lunch at a picnic table.

And he was right.

We spent time baiting hooks, untangling fishing lines, and enjoying the afternoon. Nothing fancy. Just a little fishing and time together.

And something was different about that day.

I wasn’t thinking about Wednesday.

Normally, the last day of a vacation or a few days off comes with a little cloud hanging over it. I start counting the hours I have left. I think about how quickly the time has gone and wish I could somehow stretch it out.

But not that day.

It’s hard to explain, but Tuesday seemed to exist in its own time zone.

Wednesday was still coming. I knew that. But it couldn’t reach back into Tuesday and ruin it.

I wasn’t trying to squeeze every possible minute out of the day. I wasn’t worrying about how little time I had left. I was simply enjoying what we were doing.

And that’s what struck me afterward.

I’ve spent so much time looking forward to the weekend that sometimes I barely notice the weekdays passing. Then, when the weekend finally gets here, I start worrying about losing it.

I do the same thing with vacations and holidays. I look forward to them, enjoy them for a while, and then start thinking about how soon they’ll be over.

I’ve been doing this for so long that it almost seems normal.

But what happened Tuesday made me question that.

I didn’t do anything special to make the day better. I didn’t come up with some plan to stop worrying about tomorrow. I just got caught up in an afternoon with my family, and for once my mind stayed right there with us.

Wednesday came, just like I knew it would. I got up and went back to work.

But I hadn’t spent Tuesday dreading it.

That’s the part I want to hold on to.

I’m still going to look forward to Friday. I’m still going to enjoy having a few days off, and I’m certainly still looking forward to retirement.

There’s nothing wrong with having something to look forward to.

I just don’t want looking forward to tomorrow to keep taking away from today.

I know one good stretch of days hasn’t changed a habit I’ve carried around for years. I’ll probably find myself watching the clock again soon enough.

But now I have a reminder of what an ordinary afternoon can feel like when I’m not mentally somewhere else.

And I’m beginning to think I’ve missed too many of those afternoons already.

What about you? Have you ever spent so much time looking forward to something that you started dreading its end before it was even over?