Somedays are glorious and wonderful, leaving you grasping for just another moment, just one more glimpse of the sunset, room for one more piece of cake, or just another few minutes chatting with a friend. Some days are quite the opposite they drag on unbearably slow, seeming almost never ending and painfully dull and agonizing. I have a very hard time letting go of the day especially when one has been very good or quite bad. A wonderful day leaves me hesitant to fall asleep knowing that it is likely that the next day will not present me with the magic and wander of the day before. I hold onto it tightly refusing to give into the need to sleep and accept the rise and fall of the sun. Bad days leave me full of anxiety that the next day will just be a repetition of the disappointing day. I hold onto that bad day just as tightly as the good refusing to accept another drull day one without excitement or joy one that feels ordinary.
In these moments late into the evening when the outside world is dark and quiet and I should have drifted into slumber hours ago, I stay awake. I refuse to let go. Even when I feel my eyelids drooping and I slide further under the covers to escape the nighttime chill I refuse to accept the uncertainty of the day ahead.
Sometimes this means that I just snuggle up with a book, reading by flashlight just in case my mom decides to make the cross country trek simply to check and see if I have fallen to sleep, other times I simply let Netflix autoplay the next show in the series or I watch Pride & Prejudice (the A&E version of course) for the millionth time, continuing a late night love affair that started in St. Louis at the age of 5.
But recently I decided to spend that time where I refused to say goodnight to the world, reading the Kinfolk cookbook. I sat and flipped through the pages of people opening their homes to share with the world a meal that meant something special to them. Meals shared with friends, passed down from generations, sprinkled with fresh ingredients and cultural heritage. Instead of being weary for the next day it made me excited for the days to come. For when the weather changes and when the sun stays out just a bit later. For fresh grass and afternoon rains. For old friends and new recipes. For mismatched plates and a room full of laughter. I fell asleep with a peace that there are better days ahead, days filled with joy and celebration of life and food. That the good stuff is all just down the road and that makes all of those icky days just a tad bit more endurable. It makes drifting off to sleep accepting that tomorrow will bring what it chooses that much easier.