“I want a Saturday,” I told Dave as we stood in the kitchen, me gathering my car keys and wallet, him stacking a plate into the dishwasher.
“I mean, I don’t want to rush. I don’t want to waste it.” I stood there, unmoving, facing him.
I’d woken up abruptly, and with my scrambled-egg morning brain I couldn’t remember what day it was. Sunday?
I considered the evidence. Lucy had spent the night. Was that Thursday or Friday? Because if I could remember that, I’d know what day today was.
I landed on Friday for far too long, and panic swelled in my chest. Sunday. Already?
The rapid-fire thoughts eventually came to a head as the blinds of my mind slowly opened.
No. She spent the night Thursday. Today it’s just Evelyn here.
Which means… It’s Saturday. Saturday!
I get a Saturday after all.
I knew I had big shoes to fill after that realization, hence my kitchen confession that I didn’t want my Saturday slipping away.
Dave knew exactly what to do. He stopped what he was doing, walked over toward me, and said, “Then go. Go have a Saturday.”
That was the giant push I needed, sending me wheeling out the door and off to do Saturday.
And I did. I really, really did.
Tomorrow I have a lunch date with my book club at the Whistle Stop Cafe in Juliette. According to my Kindle, I’m just an hour and twenty-eight minutes away from finishing Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe, which means I’ll actually be able to talk about the book at the restaurant that shares its name.
Will we order a plate of fried green tomatoes for an appetizer?
How could we not?
Alright, I’d better get back to reading.
Love, Jaclynn