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| Dad time, c. 1992 |
It drives me crazy when people ask, "J'have a good weekend?" It's not a privacy issue so much as weekends kind of come and go. My life is good. My weekdays are good. My weekends aren't some type of uncorked celebration marking the end of a tedious week. My weekends are just two more days of the week and, happily, tend to be enjoyable as well….providing there aren't too many chores to take care of.
But this weekend was different. I got to spend almost the whole entire day Saturday with Kels. I never get to do that. At least not since she started driving. Not since she got a boyfriend. Not since she left for college. But she was home for the weekend from school and decided she wanted to kinda hang out with me. Amazing!
We did rounds at two different hospitals-- something she hasn't done much really since she stopped drawing with crayons. We looked at x-rays together; straightened out a broken ankle and a couple of broken wrists; talked about school and exams and medical school and the future of medicine and working. We talked about damn near everything and finished up the day watching U of M lose to Notre Dame which turned out to be the only sour note in the symphony that was a day spent with my daughter.
In the morning Ev and I bundled up in the crisp fall air and sunshine and rode our bikes down to Lance's Bakery and hauled home fresh bread, donuts and maple bars. The breakfast of champions. And the perfect end to a perfect weekend with my daughter, something I never get to do.
Ya, so just if you were wondering, I did have a good weekend. A really good weekend.
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