Mondays
Sunday, August 15, 2010
My boss asked if I'm counting down. A few months ago, we had a chat and I said that I'm not yet at the stage of counting my remaining shifts in Pharmacy. I'm not.
As I walked into the Hospital around 7:30 this morning, the laboureres at the adjacent building site were singing, whooping and laughing as they worked. They'd started dismanting the four stories of scaffold concealing the hospital's new building several hours earlier. They shouted to eachother and guffawing at their humour. Smiling at life.
Below, a trio of tired nurses and an Admin officer trudged through the main entrance in silence. Their heads slightly bowed and gaze fixed on an indeterminate point some hunderd metres through the wall. Their day was just beginning.
In first year, my drive to uni went through downtown, usually at peak hour. In the snailled traffic, dark suits and skirts would weave their way through, en route to white, starched-collar monoliths. I didn't see laughter, and rarely smiles. Mondays were the worst, for them.
I love Mondays. Shiny, new, rested. On Mondays, I'm reminded about direction change. That I made a conscious choice to go back to Uni. That I love learning about medicine, life and people. That feeling of 'something new' that you get on the first day of school, or a new job, that 'fresh start' feeling, is always there on Mondays.
As I walked into the Hospital around 7:30 this morning, the laboureres at the adjacent building site were singing, whooping and laughing as they worked. They'd started dismanting the four stories of scaffold concealing the hospital's new building several hours earlier. They shouted to eachother and guffawing at their humour. Smiling at life.
Below, a trio of tired nurses and an Admin officer trudged through the main entrance in silence. Their heads slightly bowed and gaze fixed on an indeterminate point some hunderd metres through the wall. Their day was just beginning.
In first year, my drive to uni went through downtown, usually at peak hour. In the snailled traffic, dark suits and skirts would weave their way through, en route to white, starched-collar monoliths. I didn't see laughter, and rarely smiles. Mondays were the worst, for them.
I love Mondays. Shiny, new, rested. On Mondays, I'm reminded about direction change. That I made a conscious choice to go back to Uni. That I love learning about medicine, life and people. That feeling of 'something new' that you get on the first day of school, or a new job, that 'fresh start' feeling, is always there on Mondays.
