Weekends are for sleeping in and enjoying freedom from paying for Friday nights that run too late.
Weekends are for laundry that smells like spring and the glory of sunshine on brown skin.
Weekends are for full breakfasts and slow music leaking out of speakers like water from a split coconut.
They are for dreaming, for breezes that lift your worries just as they do your skirt.
Weekends are for checking in with self and with God, mending fences the hectic week broke and fixing the bridges the stream of anxieties destroyed.
Weekends are for lunches cooked slow until the food is enjoying the spices.
They are for late nights laughing with good people over good food, great drinks and funny jokes.
Weekends are for the sadness of Sundays and how they feel like the ground watching an aching ripeness, waiting for the fruit to fall.
Weekends are for living.
**unless you’re a medical student, then, oops.