I have always loved you. When I was school-aged, it meant the end of the school week. In college, it meant Football Saturdays and time with friends. In law school, it meant time to catch up on reading for class and studying, but also time for friends and backyard sits.
Even as a young lawyer, when weekends meant more working, I still loved you because those working weekends meant casual wear, and I had no kids to rush home to. Then came kids and less hours at work, and I raced to Friday afternoon so I could rush home to those kids, even though they were worn out and grumpy from long hours at childcare.
As a lobbyist, I loved you. Even in the waning days of long, drawn-out sessions, the legislators always tried to finish up the weekly business on Thursday, so that they could race home to you, dear Friday.
Now, during my gap year, my career break, I look forward to you all week, and miss you when you are gone, too quickly. You are my dawn, and my sunset. While the kids are at school, I run my long run. I take a shower without anyone yelling at me, knocking on the door, or, more frequently than not, barging into the bathroom and asking me where x article of clothing or y food item is located. Maybe I even have a moment alone to read. Now a bit older, the kids are usually happy on Friday afternoon. We come home ready to make a fun dinner and have a movie night.
But alas, the Friday fun will come to an end. Saturday will dawn. If there is a morning run it will be rushed to get back in time for a Tae Kwon Do class, a gymnastics practice or a volleyball tournament. We will rush about, doing errands and tasks, entertaining kids and doing household chores.
Counting the days until next Friday.