It is Tuesday. Tuesday. Not a new week or a new month, just another day. Enough of a day to pick collards from the garden, collect four eggs from the hens, play with friends, meet with my ladies at Redeemer, ride down the hill on old toys with wheels, walk to the church on the corner so the children can climb on the railing while I sit on the steps and soak in a bit of warm air, and to eat a soulful meal of butter beans, collards, beer bread, and squash. I can't not mention the bottle of homemade wine.
There is nothing new, nothing profound, but there is life and laughter and tackle games before bed. And the morning will come quickly along with tutoring, coffee, the letter "N", research, hungry chicks, and a run to test how much oxygen I can fit into my lungs in 6 minutes and 30 seconds. That is it for Tuesday. Goodnight.