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The Changing Face of my Weekends
Back before I retired, I loved Saturdays. It was by far my most favorite day of the week. I got to stay up late on Friday night and could sleep in on Saturday without the annoyance of my alarm clock. Saturday was better than Sunday because there was no winding down of the weekend to ponder Monday’s alarm and return to the mines. Hi-ho, Hi-ho…
Two-plus years into retirement, I now find that I’m not a big fan of weekends. The senior center where I enjoy yoga, aerobics, and line dancing is closed. The pool at the aquatics center is over-run with Weekend Warriors. Every place — everywhere is crowded — with crowds. I have even stopped traveling on weekends, preferring to drive to and fro from family visits during the week.
And so, I find myself longing for speedy weekends that bleed into quiet Mondays. Mondays where I can swim in a lane all to myself. Mondays where I can attend line dancing and aerobics. Mondays, which in a twisted turn of events, have now become my favorite day of the week.
The Universe always has loved a bit of irony.
My cousin told me that once I retired — every day would be Saturday. It was a feeling I looked forward to immensely. I never dreamed that I would want any day to be other than Saturday. Saturday, to me, meant freedom. But now, in retirement, I find I enjoy All. Of. My. Days. And while my weekends are a bit more boring than my weekdays — I still hang onto that sense of Saturday Freedom, only now — I carry it along every single day of my week.
Namaste.
