The year Everyday was Saturday except Sunday
An Around Botetourt submission
| The early-spring sunlight bounced off the ripples of the mountaintop pond as the fishing bobbers danced on those windblown waters. I marveled at how far I could see, how crystal clear and blue the sky was. It was a different, darker blue. The air traffic was almost nonexistent, save for the occasional medical helicopter making the transit to either pick up or deliver a patient to Roanoke Memorial Hospital. The hike from the house up to the mountaintop had not been too arduous thanks to the constant chatter of questions from my bright and ever so inquisitive 10-year-old daughter. As we settled in to our private and beautiful fishing spot with our soda pop and fishy cracker snack, my daughter made a comment that we have all made at one time or another when hanging out with a parent or other children and enjoying that time together. “Dad, I wish every day was Saturday … well, except for Sunday.” As she kept talking about her wish and what she would do, I mulled over what she had just said. First, I was quickly taken back to a time when I made that exact comment to friends after a long day of riding the bike trails. The day was about to end, and just before we went our separate ways, I said it. “I wish every day could be Saturday!” A resounding YES was their awesome reply. But then, I was suddenly brought back to the present by the rest of my daughter’s statement. “Except for Sunday.” So I asked her, cutting her off mid-sentence from her soliloquy about everything she would do, “Honey, why would you give up Sunday?” Without hesitation she replied, “Because that day does not belong to us, Daddy.” She continued on with her planning for what she would do with her never-ending supply of Saturdays. OOP! You got a bite! She excitedly reeled in a small-mouthed bass. Beaming with her catch and ready to continue, she gingerly released her catch back into the pond and reset her fishing gear as our day continued. Our conversation moved on to those ever so normal daddy-daughter fishing conversations. “Do you think I will catch that fish again?” “How did the fish get all the way up here to the top of the mountain?” After our day of fishing was done and we walked down the trail to the house, I received that heartwarming message all fathers long to hear. “Daddy, this was the best day ever!” Fishing pole in hand, lunch and bait bag slung over her shoulder. Skipping off ahead down the trail, making up a song about our day… “Oh, I wish everyday was Saturday. Oh, I wish everyday was Saturday…” After we got home and cleaned up, I could hear my daughter in the living room giving her mother and brother the rundown of her day, every fine detail. I walked out to the living room, plopped down next to her and said, “You know, your wish came true and you didn’t even know it.” “Whaaaat?” she replied. “Well, ever since Governor Northam closed school. Ever since the president declared a national emergency and we all were asked to stay at home, every day has been Saturday. “All of the work around the house is getting done that we usually do on Saturday. And every day after our chores are done, we are doing fun things together as a family,” I said. “Except for Sunday!” she again pointed out. Our son looked over and said, “What?” She looked at him and said, “I know every day is Saturday right now, but Sunday is the Lord’s Day, and every Sunday is when I ask him to make all the other days a Saturday!” she continued. “If I remember to honor his day, every other day can be Saturday!” Her words fell on me like a mountaintop boulder crashing down full speed from an avalanche. COVID-19, as horrible as it is, has been a blessing. And I suspect that it is this way for more than just my family. The world has slowed down. It has not stopped. There are still groceries in the stores, gas at the pumps, mulch and lumber at the hardware store. At least here, craftspeople still go to work and restaurants are delivering or providing food for takeout. And even though some people are home and out of work, families are spending more time together. Teaching is being done at home, and here is my daughter giving thanks and asking for these everyday Saturdays to continue. It took my 10-year-old daughter’s whimsical spirit to hammer that message home to me. No matter what your own personal grounding or belief may be, what a strong message from someone so small with a faith and understanding so huge. The TV is off. I am thinking about what to cook for the next family meal and dreaming of what we will do together tomorrow … which will be another Saturday. My journal entry for yesterday… 27 April 2020 – 2020, The year that every day was Saturday, except for Sunday. —-Bastian Freedman photo by Cathy Benson |
