I am writing this on a Friday night, and I'm happy. It wasn't always so. After my husband died, I dreaded the weekends. No, let me be clear--I hated them. So much so that I devoted a whole chapter in Above & Beyond Wellfleet to the adjustment I had to make.
I had always loved weekends. They were especially wonderful when I was a teenager. I went to high school in Omaha, Nebraska. I loved my almost five years in this city--so much so that when my father was transferred back East, I cried from the Council Bluffs bridge to Rochester, NY. One of the things that made my teenage years so happy was that there was always something fun to do on the weekends. Yes, I'm of the age of sock hops, pep rallies and
"be true to your team." I recovered from my sadness of moving away from my high school friends, and made new friends in college. Weekends were still eagerly anticipated. I went to a women's college--so they were REALLY anticipated. After I was married, weekends were still looked forward to. Bridge parties replaced fraternity parties--but having fun and relaxing were the watchwords. We had earned the right from working hard all week to revel in the company of friends or planning something special for the family. There was a clear demarcation from Friday to Sunday--a time reserved to pause and enjoy life. When my husband died that pause gnawed at me. I was no longer a couple and even though I was blessed with wonderful friends, their company in the beginning only added to my misery--as to where there used to be four there was only three. The good news is I've learned to make TGIF less holy.I've figured out a way to keep the demarcation of making the weekends special.The photograph accompanying this post is how I am choosing to make this Friday night special for just me--the warmth of the fireplace, a lobster stew simmering, a glass of chardonnay, and looking at the new man of the house--he is on the mantle.Of course, there are things I miss--but I have learned in the last ten years to count my blessings.Tonight I dine alone, but tomorrow and the next night I will be with my daughter on her birthday weekend, having been included with two different sets of her friends.I'm happy to report that one of the phrases that has become a common expression for me is "it doesn't get better than that"--and it doesn't.