There is something satisfying and delicious in a Friday night. More so now that the sun descends much sooner. That the breeze is noticeably cooler. Gone for me are the days of boozy after hour drinks, aching feet in too high heels, and a life spent waiting for the next big thing. Now Friday nights are an exhale of the breath I didn't know I was holding all week. The relaxing of muscles strained to the max after a hard week of life. I can feel it wash over me, just about four o'clock. After I've picked up my oldest from school. As we settle into a dinner of left overs, or hot dogs, or cereal. Anything so we do not have to leave the house. The cocoon that we weave throughout the week, with toys and books covering almost every surface. With a dinner table covered in magazines and crayons and quite possibly last nights dishes. Because Thursdays are sometimes harder than Mondays. Because in motherhood, Friday nights are an anomaly. So now we have to make them into something worth the wait. Crock pots with simmering soups. Baking cookies instead of bed time. A hot cuppa of something, in the silence, after you put the kids to bed early, earlier than you have all week, just to savor the silence. To savor the solitude. To savor the precious minutes of a book, a blog, a beloved television show. Friday nights are spent no longer waiting for the next big thing.
