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Sometimes late at night...


As is the case in most American homes, Saturday and Sunday are the most coveted days of the week. Saturday is generally when homeowners maintain their investments with cleaning or up-keeping chores, while Sunday is reserved for quality family time. As I’m writing this I realize just how “1950s” this actually sounds, and I wasn’t born until the ‘80s. Anymore there’s rarely a day or even an afternoon devoted to building relationships inside a family unit. Instead of mowing your own lawn on a Saturday morning people usually hire a lawn service to do this for them so a few extra hours of work can be squeezed into already overloaded work schedules. For me, the weekends are still my favorite. It’s when I get to share every breathing moment with the love of my life.

Lately his work responsibilities take him away from me during the week. Call me silly (or if you are my sister you will just roll your eyes because you hate the word "silly"), but, nevertheless, I set a timer on my phone that counts down the days, hours, minutes, and seconds to when I will finally get to see him next: 19 hours – 6 minutes – 27 seconds. Friday afternoon is the most anticipated moment of my entire week. The instant I hear the key turn in the porch door lock my memory is blanked of the previous four sleepless nights and five empty days. I forget that I’ve only spoken to him a collective 34 minutes and a few random text messages this week; it no longer matters because he is home. When I hear that key in the lock I know that the next 57 hours will make the previous 111 hours fade away. My face will wear a perpetual smile and we will be together. The only real challenge I face during our 57-hour weekend is my own cynicism. I battle feelings of dread because I know that Monday morning’s 4 o’clock is in a hurry to get here. Instead of feeding that maniacal devil in my brain, I force my mind and my will to encourage my heart to enjoy our time together. I chant our motto in my brain until I’ve worn it ragged: “This is only a means to an end. We have a dream and this is helping us realize it.”

So tomorrow when I hear the entryway chime my heart will freeze, my face will smile, my legs will race to hug him, and my head will be happy to have him for one more weekend. 

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