The Calendar

It's the last day of April.

The calendar in our bathroom has a butterfly on it.  I can't figure this butterfly out.

Why does its head look so weird?  Is that its eye?  It's like a huge bird eye.  Or is that part of its body?  Why does it have two bodies?  Is there a second butterfly in this picture?   What, exactly, is going on?

It's kind-of driving me nuts.

I cannot wait to turn the page on this calendar.

I don't know if it's the calendar, or just life in a bathroom, but for some reason I'm very anxious for time to get moving.

It's this strange phenomenon.  Every morning, when I look at that calendar, I start thinking: "I cannot wait for this month to be over."

And then I stop myself and think, "Why in the world am I thinking that?"

It happened last month too.  There was a giant tulip on the page.  It's a beautiful picture -- but I just got tired of the whole thing.


There are moments in life when you want time to hurry up.  Events you can hardly wait to finally arrive --
       proposals and weddings
                pregnancies and babies
                         vacations and celebrations
                                 graduations and anniversaries
                                         holidays and birthdays
             seeing a friend or a loved one after a long time apart . . .

Sometimes we want time to hurry up so that moments can end and come to a close --
         a long school year,
                           tiring events that take up too much time and energy,
                    bouts with illness,
                                      too-tight schedules,
                                                  a day of cleaning,
                                                                               a year of waiting,
                                              "I just can't wait for this to finally be over . . ."

And there are the bittersweet  waitings . . .
    when we don't know if we want time to hurry up or come to a stop . . .

for a loved one's pain to finally end . . .
                     
     for a child to leave home and venture out into the world . . .

for a long awaited homecoming that we're not sure what will happen . .
           
            for a job to end -- or begin . . .
                           
                   for a move or  relocation . . .

                                for beginnings and ends . . .

                                                          for answers . . .


And time marches on -- carefully plodding along at 24 hours per day.


I'm not waiting for any big event at the moment . . . either to begin or end . . . no complicated waitings or wonderings . . .

So why am I so anxious to turn that calendar page?

Why can't I wait to get to the next month?

Could it really be all wrapped up in that confusing butterfly?

Or is it something more?


Tomorrow we shall see.


(I peeked.  It's a duck.)   Here we go again . . .

I think I need a new calendar.