The Weekend

The weekend was when I fell apart. I could sleep later, have a headache, run late. I could clean and cook, do laundry, or just dim the lights and lie in bed. None of that could happen during the week because . . .

Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “the weekend.”

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

6 thoughts on “The Weekend”

  1. She was too busy working at the fast-paced ad agency during the week to even begin to think about the weekend. There were times when she worked all day and through early evening trying to meet a deadline. By the time Friday came around she finally was winding down and had a moment or two to think about the weekend coming up. She really looked forward to her lover flying in on Friday night from his long-term assignment out of state. She would pick him up at the airport and they would stop in at the fantastic market along the way home to buy food, wine, liquor and always a colorful bouquet for the weekend. They always had fun things planned and loved being together. Being so busy and away from one another all week long made their weekends very special.

  2. All month my husband and I had worked on our little getaway house out of state. When we returned home, we were so thankful for an event-less trip, replete with a TSA rating on our boarding passes bi-passing the long line at security. The flights were smooth, the seat occupants acceptable and our graciously provided for ride home from the airport on time and pleasant. The time zone differential made recovery tricky, but the weekend was coming and the joy of that helped.
    And then on Friday, it hit.
    Randall’s depression introduced another episode, only one week on the heels of a previous one, but this one unforeseen. The smallest thing triggers him, and from nowhere he ranted about something minor, accusing me of falsities and acting out with cruelty and intentional meanness.
    Once a wine cork bursts, the pressure calms and the wine readied to serve, no longer penned up. Anger bursts follow suit. They pop, and then think all is well again and carry on as if nothing was harmed, nothing happened, nothing was wrong.
    Weekends are such blessed relief from stress and schedule, yes. And time to step back from work, trips and the trials of daily living. Time to re-group, talk things through, make sense of life, pray together.
    Saturday we chatted, Sunday we went to church and were re-energized with the reminder of God’s power and healing touch.
    And Monday, we go forward with another week, renewed, forgiven, hopeful that what went before is the yeast for new recipes, not old ones.

  3. Weekends are for shopping, cleaning, washing. I shovel clothes and dishes into various machines. The vacuum cleaner purrs. In the living room, my husband turns up the volume on the set. The Packers just made a touchdown.

  4. My niece will return to Clarke University complete her PT Doctorate. She did practicums in a few places in the South West. She and her finance came in town to visit and for fun over the weekend.. The visiting portion was cut short because this weekend, on Saturday, the Arlington Million horse race took place. This couple was persuaded by her married and pregnant sister to enjoy an new experience – one that probably wouldn’t present often. They already had baseball game tickets for Sunday. Monday morning was scheduled for the trip back to Iowa so we’ll wait for another weekend. The curse of oldie-millennial relationship strikes again

  5. Weekends are meant to be fun .
    The kids are at home , home from school , and they sleep late .
    At 11 a.m., one with tousled hair , scratches her belly and yawns “,What is for breakfast ?”
    Gently , she is reminded , that she is closer to lunch. Breakfast has been long ago polished off.
    But wait , there is still some batter in the fridge , and boiled potatoes curry . “Would she like a dosa?”
    She makes a face .
    “Cornflakes with cold milk? ”
    Nope .
    “Toast with cheese ?”
    Turning up of pretty teen noses , sensitive to non-existent odors of fresh cheese and cold yoghurt.
    The man turns the pages of sunday newspaper noisily , and grunts with ill-concealed impatience.

  6. The weekend was for false hope,unrequited love,12 am tears,4 am secrets,and staying up all night. For those who knew their place in the world they were enjoying it. For those who didn’t they were thinking. Some thought there was no hope. Some thought there was. The weekends were made for thoughts. The weekends were made for fun. We had a good run.

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