This week is limbo week. The bardo. A kind of no man’s land. My semester is over but far from done. The summer is starting but not quite here.

It’s the last full week before my birthday.

This morning feels like the most un-Monday of Mondays: relaxed, easy, in some ways anticipatory—not for what’s coming, but just for itself. I feel a kind of dreamy wonder at today—like I am wishing for fresh coffee in my favorite mug, and then I realize it’s already in my hand.

The bottom line: I’m not starting anything—I am finishing everything. Effortlessly slowing to an end. Entropy, but good entropy—the heat of this system released into the next.