Our Monday

I am the fourth. Like the triangle of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, I am its mirror image: The Mother, Daughter, and Holy Ghost. Together, the two triangles form a square, and I am the invisible corner—the point where heaven and earth meet to complete the shape. They say I don't exist, but I do. I always have. I've just been waiting in the wings, letting others take centre stage. Not anymore.

 

And I've been searching for my bride for donkey's years, and there she stands in her kitchen, washing dishes and crushing the devil's head, his lies and deceptions falling one by one at her heels.

 

How does she do it?

With a trick of light...through a little bit of Irish craic.

 

And a law onto herself.

 

In the past, she used to gallop far ahead of me, chasing something—or someone—a prize or person I could not see. Maybe she knew more than I did. But she didn't share. She was always happy to leave me in her dust.

 

Paddy last. Pulling up the rear, like the fool I was.

 

But is being last so bad?

 

There's wisdom in the slow trot—in not rushing towards what waits ahead. In the rush to finish, do we miss a nugget or two? A cuckoo calling out its name, bringing a smile to her face and reminding her of all the crazy things she'd done, some seen, some unseen.

 

And still, she remembers every one of them as they rattle around in her head, waiting for their turn to see the light of day.

 

Cuckoo.

 

Hats off to Adam—he was spot on in naming this bird. Some things don't need improving upon.

 

There is a danger in holding your own in last place. This pace can make you overthink. Everything becomes a sign. A conspiracy. A deeper meaning. Maybe it has one. Or maybe it just is.

 

She has been there. Bought the T-shirt. But the T-shirt's been worn to a thread. Time to toss it. Time for something new.

 

It doesn't have to win accolades. It just must make her feel like a winner in her own mind.

 

She doesn't care to be a glory seeker. She is happy to be instrumental—to play her part until the game ends for her.

 

But I have big plans for this lady.

 

She has paid her dues tenfold, side-lined in life more times than she cares to remember. But she never gave up the fight, and that's what counts.

 

A second chance is hers for the taking.

 

I smile to myself. She is back in the game again. It has been a long road back, but even though she plays down her role, she knows she is a breadwinner.

 

Today, we are all breadwinners—women and men alike—working together to provide a better future for our children.

 

So, she is back on the horse, reconciling the accounts. Balancing the books. Keeping us out of the red and in the black.

 

Like any good bookkeeper, she understands the importance of a healthy balance. Not just in the ledger, but in life itself.

 

......✍️