Here is the best kind of Monday: it’s early, only 7:30 a.m., and sunny, and I am in charge of spending the day with the special one. Yes, he would like to go to Farm Pond. And by 8 a.m. on a sunny spring day we are there in our bathing suits, the beach deserted, and one swimmer crossing the water near shore in a wet suit. Sun brimming, lake lit so brightly. The Island surrounded by sparkle. All we have to do is play in the water and sand. As much as we like. As long as we like. There is nothing to disturb us. And there are plenty of toys in the toy bin. Yellow dump trucks, a bull dozer, some shovels and pails. We get wet to our waists. We look for fish in the water. We climb onto the docks. When we are tired we head home. There is one unlucky incident of tripping on the parking lot pavement, some scraped knees and tears. This day is outdoors. Except my one meeting online with my poetry mentor. I have risen at 4:00 a.m. to prepare to work with her on my manuscript. And then there is the chance, while he is sleeping in the afternoon, for my own nap. We eat dinner outdoors. It is a summery, hopeful day full of gratitude and play. The special one wondered why my manuscript pages were scattered all over the floor of the den. Did I make this mess? Yes. And I’m cleaning it up, making order. Doing my best.