Weekends…the edit

What are weekends? What are they for? Breaks from the working week? From busy lives?

To me, of late, they are everything. Be they spent busily rushing around or doing next to nothing it doesn’t matter to me. With a million people rushing by in a frenzied whirl or alone it doesn’t matter to me. Seeing friends and socialising or sleeping until noon it doesn’t matter to me.

It doesn’t matter to me so long as I am with you. Equally happy whispering daft song lyrics to you while you sing beautifully and with gusto, or rushing to the shops to not buy the things that we want, or cooking you dinner while you enjoy your post massage snuggle, or (edited for common decency! lol), or playing pool and chatting up random old men. It doesn’t matter to me. Be I in this country or be I in yours, it doesn’t matter to me. Whether I am travelling across country or awaiting by the fire for your arrival, it doesn’t matter to me.

All that matters to me about them now, and every other day, is that I get to spend them with you. My life has changed in so many ways but none that are probably perceptible to anyone else but me. I no longer wish for how I used to spend them before.

But then the weekend…ends. I look around and see the state of the kitchen and it’s washing up yet to be done piled up high. The clothes on the sofa and the **** in the lounge. The duvet a tumble of **** and ****, the tossed aside ****. I see myself in the mirror with unwashed hair and looking a state and……..I…….smile. I smile because I spent the weekend with you doing whatever we wanted to. I smile because I think back to everything we shared and how you smiled and laughed and teased and joked and looked so very happy.

Weekends are for love. Weekends are for you. But now I have to work out how to make the weekends become days of the week too.