I walk out my door and the afternoon sun skips across the trees and reflects off the windows across the street. I close the door quickly behind me, finding myself skipping as I pick up the pace to meet you both on this favorite Friday day of the week. The smells are particular and strong, a crushed mix of blossoms from the pear trees and salt air squeezed by dust and pollution.
The sun is bright today, and after weeks of gloomy gray skies and watered down fizzy drinks, I find myself stretching my back a bit to feel the warmth flow in through my skin. I skip, hop, walk a bit faster than usual because I was lost in my at-Home-work and forgot about the time and I know that you two will be there there waiting with your friends, before I get to school.
I like to get there before the bell rings and when you both come spilling out of your classrooms and into my arms, when we move across the yard and start our walk home. I like this favorite day of the week. It is always a signal to me that we finally have a little bit of freedom in our time, where we can capture a bit more of these days that lead up to the rest of your life when you have moved on into that place where you are no longer a child, or someone who will hold their mom's hand in public, or give her dandelions plucked from yards.
And then we walk home, not hand in hand as I wish, but with you both chattering and scampering in and out of yards and over rocks, ready for the weekend, ready for all the many things it holds in its plans for us.