Just another manic monday

My mondays are horrible. I know everyone feels that way coming back after a mere two days of some sort of relaxation. My mondays though are just insanely busy. I woke up at 5:30 a.m. to go to the gym, then I went to my editing internship at a regional journal, then I had 3 classes front to back and finally got home at 8 p.m. I'm exhausted and barely able to keep my eyes open. I can't wait to greet my pillow in just a few short moments.


But before I go, I want to share something with you. My contemporary American poetry class is currently studying Gwendolyn Brooks and today we read this poem:

when you have forgotten Sunday: the love story

BY GWENDOLYN BROOKS

—And when you have forgotten the bright bedclothes on a Wednesday and a Saturday,

And most especially when you have forgotten Sunday—

When you have forgotten Sunday halves in bed,

Or me sitting on the front-room radiator in the limping afternoon

Looking off down the long street

To nowhere,

Hugged by my plain old wrapper of no-expectation

And nothing-I-have-to-do and I’m-happy-why?

And if-Monday-never-had-to-come—

When you have forgotten that, I say,

And how you swore, if somebody beeped the bell,

And how my heart played hopscotch if the telephone rang;

And how we finally went in to Sunday dinner,

That is to say, went across the front room floor to the ink-spotted table in the southwest corner

To Sunday dinner, which was always chicken and noodles

Or chicken and rice

And salad and rye bread and tea

And chocolate chip cookies—

I say, when you have forgotten that,

When you have forgotten my little presentiment

That the war would be over before they got to you;

And how we finally undressed and whipped out the light and flowed into bed,

And lay loose-limbed for a moment in the week-end

Bright bedclothes,

Then gently folded into each other—

When you have, I say, forgotten all that,

Then you may tell,

Then I may believe

You have forgotten me well.

When I read this poem, I immediately thought of my recently failed relationship. I imagined the times we spent together and how my former lover is forgetting about all our memories and then in turn me. It was a scary thought. My professor called on me to share my interpretation and I told her that I thought the speaker and the man have just ended the relationship. The professor asked if I thought they had a good relationship. I said no. I read the lines about finally going to Sunday night dinner as the boy finally compromising to do things that the girl wanted him to do.My friend Clifton cleverly pointed out "Well isn't that you just asserting your ideas about what is a good relationship on the poem?" He was right. I totally added my own experience into the lovely Gwendolyn Brooks' poem. It did make me think though about the ending of my relationship. 

I wasn't happy in my relationship as much as I wanted to pretend I was. There were things that were important to me that I chose to neglect because they weren't important to my partner. Neglecting them was neglecting myself. As hard as it's been for me to move on and be okay with the idea that he's moving on from me, I know deep within me that I made the right decision. 

Goodnight all of you. Sleep well, rest assured...Monday is finally finito.

Truly,

Cass