Daylight savings time kicked me in the derriere today.

I was tired at 2:30 and ready for bed by 4. It was Monday and I felt funky and weird. This made me think strange things like “what kind of candy will there be in heaven?”

I grabbed a hot coffee from a grocery store deli, next to the lunch meat and potato salad. Grocery store coffee bars are underrated and the fact that I say so makes me feel about 74 yrs. old.

On Monday  – the day that’s hip to hate – I am guaranteed at least 28 facebook statuses that read something like: “where did the weekend go? Mondays suck!” or “OMG booo for Monday! I need coffee LOLZ!”

As for me, Monday mornings are quiet and humbling. I shake a few scoops of Folgers into ‘Mr. Coffee’ and pour a bowl of cereal. I mix together three different kinds of cereals in my breakfast bowl each morning because I think that’s how Jesus intended us to eat cereal. I’m still searching for evidence of this in the scriptures.

I hobble into the study with my warm Folgers and cereal bowl and let my body tell me when she’s ready to get dressed.

On Mondays she likes to wait until half past 8.

When I was a kid back in the days of Jonathan Taylor Thomas (JTT!) and Polly Pockets, morning time was my favorite. I never needed an alarm. I’d pop up well before sunrise and find the scent of my mother’s sticky hairspray calling me to the table for OJ. Those were the days when sugary cereals were acceptable and Cap ‘n Crunch had come out with the deliciously genius concept of “crunch berries.” I looked forward to the pinkish purple color it left in my milk and slurped it up with pride. It made me so happy. And I always woke early enough for Saved by the Bell. I’ve been a faithful fan since I was 7.

That childish zest for crunch berries and early mornings has retired along with Polly Pockets and JTT. I don’t look forward to mornings. I don’t look forward to Mondays. But as I stated above, they are quiet and humbling.

I come home from work around 6 and the sky is black. Pitch black. I kick off my shoes and shuffle over to my most faithful after work friend I call “refrigerator” for nourishment.

It sometimes happens as I peel the film off a frozen dinner or as I toss a load of towels into the wash or sit down for the first time in hours to read the mail. I get that feeling. That feeling of “where did I go? what has happened? why am I here?”

Why am I washing towels and reading mail after a full day of work? It’s in that moment that I realize that time has aged me into that ethereal, other worldly person that seven year old Jamie never thought she’d become – a “grown up.”

Then I panic. I pace around my bedroom and consider moving to Italy. Or Antartica. Then I tweeze a few stray hairs from my eyebrows and realize I’m being ridiculous.

And then I press on.

It feels much later than 8:00 p.m. as I finish my enchiladas and broccoli. Monday will be over soon. Another day farther away from Polly Pockets and tree forts.

However, I can’t give up just yet. I push aside the mail and decide to make an ice cream sundae. Slow churned cookie dough topped with brownie crumbles. I needed more toppings. Seven year old Jamie tells me to do it.

I sniff through the pantry like a beagle in a butcher shop, marveled and confused at the same time, unsure of what I want but sure I’ll find something tasty.

And like waking up on Christmas morning to find a big, shiny present you didn’t expect under the tree, I see two small orange bags stashed away behind a bottle of Aunt Jemima’s pancake syrup.

‘Reeses Pieces.’ One of the things I hope Jesus lets us have in heaven.

I smile and rip open the bags and sprinkle the yellow, brown, and orange peanut buttery candies over my ice cream. Like a kid. Like a little girl who cares nothing about when the laundry will get done or what bills came in the mail that day but likes crunch berries and peanut butter candies and doesn’t want to grow up.

Daylight savings time makes me sleepy and Monday morning makes me introspective. I’m thankful though, at the end of this day, to have found a simple joy in a silly little sack of candy.

So when I say my prayers at bedtime,  I’ll thank Jesus for Reese Pieces ice cream sundaes and if I’m feeling real brave, I’ll ask if I can bring a bag or two, when he takes me home.

the good things.

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