‘Have a good weekend’. ‘Yes, you too’…’enjoy your free time; it’s a three day weekend!’ ‘Yes. You as well’…the elevator doors close and the conversation is silenced. I ride to the third floor. The intimacy of strangers; we strive toward keeping that intimacy alive. Wearing the finest threads of civilizations, past and present, we agree to agree that those persons with whom we work are valuable; unique. They deserve the peaceful rest of a lengthy weekend, away from nonsense and chaos and failure. They are workmates and also strangers. I won’t know if any one of them has a weekend full of blessings or days off which are less than ideal. But I extend well wishes. This is a good thing to do. It is a sacred practice from ancient days.
I step out of the elevator and walk to my office. A member of the cleaning staff greets me. ‘Hey there. By the way, be sure to put that bag of candy on your desk away before you leave. You know the problem with critters’. He rolls his eyes. I nod. ‘Yes. Thank you for the reminder. I will. Have a good weekend’. His heavy booted footsteps drag down the hallway and then disappear as the stairwell swallows him whole. The building is silent.
I enter the office and close the door behind me. I clear my desk of several papers and I pick up the large plastic bag full of of candy; chocolate kisses, mini-candy bars, several packages of Swedish fish; a couple leftover candy canes which have softened in their plastic wrappers. I pull open the top metal cabinet drawer and plop the bag in the space where it rests on top of empty manila folder files. The drawer clicks shut heavily. I take my coat off the back of the door and I sit down in my chair.
690 Saint Paul 