A Ficly about a working person appreciating a Summer Weekend. No twist here, just some lively detail that’s bound to put you in a good mood.
Inside the house with the AC blasting and the neighborhood kids calling to each other from outside, though the screens on the windows, I felt it. A Summer weekend, like a dream. A season of endless bliss that the kids anticipate during the days from September to June. Two months of listening to lawnmowers and grills, and sleeping without a blanket.
Kelly calls from the kitchen, and amidst the euphoria I answer back with a kind of swallowed yell. Tomorrow we’ll spend the day poolside with our daughters and several of the other families from the block. At some point we’ll reach the magic hour, when fighting off the wildlife with citronella becomes less important than sitting back with a beer or leaning into a steak and laughing with the group while the water splashes onto the pool deck and the lights are turned on.
Sunday night when when the world is quiet save for the crickets and their seven-hour-chirp, I’ll lay in bed and offer a deep sigh to the pillow or the ceiling, and know that if we all live to be seventy or eighty, five days really won’t have been so long to wait for that next Friday.
Originally on Ficly: http://ficly.com/stories/16881