Fridays are magic to me. Being one that tends to look for magic, I imbued Fridays with specialness early on. I wore special, more better things in elementary school on the last day of the week. The air walking home always seemed sweeter and bubbling with possibilities. In high school, I lamented not having the Friday nights the teenage heroines I read about enjoyed, but still it was Friday and high school football with friends and racing home to watch "Dallas" wasn't bad. College met all my dreams for Friday nights, especially the night before a home game in Neyland Stadim in Knoxville.
Small kids and no money found me sad
and grieving the end of Friday's magic. However, I tend to not let
magic go easily. So, my housework week in those years revolved around
having everything done by 1 pm, Friday when the kids took their nap.
Those couple hours became my time - lit candles, a glass of wine and a
Today I had an appointment earlier so I left the house and
turned on my classic rock station - I ONLY listen to classic rock on
Fridays - no country, or Christian, or talk radio. (Magic doesn't just
happen, you know.)
Leaving my appointment, the first song was
perfection - "Sweet Home Alabama". Blue sky, warm breezes and Sweet Home
Alabama. Told you God is crazy about me!
I rolled down the window,
turned up the radio and sang out loud. A friend of my mom's told me one
time that she saw me singing out loud in my car. She seemed to imply I
should be embarrassed.
I'd like to say I don't care what people
think, but it's really just the opposite. I think if the people on the
highway see me singing - a 50 year old, overweight woman driving a 2001
mini-van maybe they'll think, "If she can be that happy - why shouldn't
It's Friday! Can you feel the magic?