Friday Afternoons in Spring Time
A long time ago in a life time so far away that it feels like it belonged to someone else, Friday afternoons in the spring time held a magical promise of possibilities. Home from work and the sun still shining bright. Maybe a quick swim at the beach and an entire weekend slowly unfolding in front of me.
A weekend. Two nights in a row to sleep in. A Saturday morning and a Sunday morning to wake up when ever you want to. A Saturday and a Sunday afternoon to hang out at the beach or nap or go hiking. Two nights to sit out on the front concrete slab or porch and watch the night sky fill with stars.
That was in the twentieth century - a century that seems so long ago and far away that we often forget how people survived without cell phones pressed to their ears (but I digress).
In the twenty first century, my weekend runs from 5 PM on Saturday evening until 3 PM on Sunday afternoon. Barely time to remember who I am.
The rest of the weekend I work caring for my mom. It's easier on Mondays when everyone is working, but spending Saturday on laundry and pushing her around Mission Bay feels like I'm left out of the fun of riding my bike around the bay or having a conversation with someone who just sky dived off Mount Whitney or went searching for tigers in the Sundabans' gigantic mangrove swamps. I generally go to be early on Saturday nights as it's my one night to sleep without a baby monitor pointing at my pillow. The one night I know I can fall asleep without instantly being yanked out of bed to adjust a blanket or a pillow.
So today, instead of revealing in the fact that it's Friday afternoon in the spring time, I'm tired and sad knowing I have to slog through this evening and most of tomorrow until 5 PM comes and then if I have any energy left, I'll try to ride my bike to Black's Beach, walk the road down to the beach and scan the swell for dolphins and a memory of life before, of life when a weekend lasted from 5 PM on Friday afternoon until 8 AM on Monday morning.
For those of you who have the luxury of an entire weekend, stay out late dancing and kiss a boy you never met for me.
A weekend. Two nights in a row to sleep in. A Saturday morning and a Sunday morning to wake up when ever you want to. A Saturday and a Sunday afternoon to hang out at the beach or nap or go hiking. Two nights to sit out on the front concrete slab or porch and watch the night sky fill with stars.
That was in the twentieth century - a century that seems so long ago and far away that we often forget how people survived without cell phones pressed to their ears (but I digress).
In the twenty first century, my weekend runs from 5 PM on Saturday evening until 3 PM on Sunday afternoon. Barely time to remember who I am.
The rest of the weekend I work caring for my mom. It's easier on Mondays when everyone is working, but spending Saturday on laundry and pushing her around Mission Bay feels like I'm left out of the fun of riding my bike around the bay or having a conversation with someone who just sky dived off Mount Whitney or went searching for tigers in the Sundabans' gigantic mangrove swamps. I generally go to be early on Saturday nights as it's my one night to sleep without a baby monitor pointing at my pillow. The one night I know I can fall asleep without instantly being yanked out of bed to adjust a blanket or a pillow.
So today, instead of revealing in the fact that it's Friday afternoon in the spring time, I'm tired and sad knowing I have to slog through this evening and most of tomorrow until 5 PM comes and then if I have any energy left, I'll try to ride my bike to Black's Beach, walk the road down to the beach and scan the swell for dolphins and a memory of life before, of life when a weekend lasted from 5 PM on Friday afternoon until 8 AM on Monday morning.
For those of you who have the luxury of an entire weekend, stay out late dancing and kiss a boy you never met for me.
Labels: Caregiving
posted by Karin Zirk at
5:27 PM
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