Celebrations
the REST of the week #145
It’s the rest of the week. Do you have anything to celebrate?
Do you celebrate Valentine’s Day?
I called Ricardo first thing Friday morning for a quick check in and an hour or so after saying good-bye, realized I hadn’t blown him any Valentine kisses over the air waves.
Twenty-six years into lifelong companionship, I have context and and do not fret my forgetfulness—or his.
(What a relief to be here and now—a little understanding promotes rest.)
We are both absorbed in our current tasks—me in the middle of a myofascial release intensive 500 miles away and him moving our stuff out of the house (more on that coming) while attending to work responsibilities.
For the weekend, I hop a train into Philladelphia where I’ll meet up with Gabriel, who’s driving from Maryland so we can enjoy some quality time together in the “City of Brotherly Love”, aka as the “Cradle of Liberty” or “Birthplace of America”.
I wait for the train at the Paoli station and notice the news cameraman poised with his tripod, ready to film the fans who will be returning from the celebration parade for the Eagles—this year’s NFL Super Bowl winners.
Perhaps I should mention that any interest in American football is experienced vicariously through Daniel and his love of the Baltimore Ravens. So, once the Ravens were eliminated from the Super Bowl running, I checked out—so much so that I didn’t even realize that last Sunday was the big game.
On Monday morning, however, everyone at the treatment center is wearing green and I learn that the Philadelphia Eagles are the winners—and that this is a very big deal in these parts.
So, back at the train station, I snap a picture of the reporter and wait to see the fans returning from the morning parade for myself.
I am unprepared for the quick flowing current of humanity flooding out of the train and up the stairs I’m trying to walk down. People step aside momentarily for me—like water flowing around an obstacle in the river.
There is laughing, smiling, and the occasional chant or song—unabashed celebratory joy that is infectious.
Arriving at the Philly train station, I have to walk several blocks to a place where Gabriel can pick me up—streets are shut down and fans (over one million have come, some from across the Atlantic) are everywhere, braving frigid weather. Trains are delayed. But no one is complaining.
And I can’t help but wonder if shared celebration might not be a kind of invitation to rest.
May you find something to celebrate and may your rest be sweet.
Alicia