A widowed woman wakes to start the day. Brightness looms overhead and overwhelms her. She buries her face back into her pillow and prays more sleep will rob her of the heavy feeling. Before long the sound of young needy voices draws her from the bed. The pressure of lives dependent on her feels like such a large load to bare. She wonders if she has the right to believe she can care for others when she often questions her ability to take care of herself.
The day already feels dark as she has started off on the wrong foot. Thoughts plague her tired mind. She feels the pressing need to entertain the thoughts, but busyness creeps in instead. The day is a race to fit activities, promises, and work into a schedule that doesn't exist, a stretch of daylight that always runs out too soon. When darkness comes and little voices have fallen silent into their beds she is reminded of a time for peace and quiet. Again she pushes away the need as she finds activities to occupy her time instead. She'll soon realize that all the minutes of the day have ticked away and left her weary and very aware that now the next day will be full of the pressures from the day that has passed.
She wonders when she will choose to live the day she is given instead of watching it pass by.