It’s Friday night, that Friday feeling that sits in the pit of your stomach and kinda simmers like water slowly boiling. Weekends were always special in our house; I think it might be Swedish culture that weekends are something very out of the ordinary. Our dinners were longer, appies and desserts and staying up past our regular bedtime. My favourite was avocado with shrimp, sour cream and caviar. On TV they would proclaim the weekend like a holiday.
I would come home from school and throw my bag on the floor and just revel in the feeling of having the whole weekend in front of me. My parents would have a glass of wine, my dad often lingered in the living room, changing records on the old record player and telling me the stories behind each one. “This was your favourite when you were little” (Madonna’s into the groove) he would play me the classics and the music he listened to as a young man. I look back now and realize how lucky I am to have had these special times with my family.
As I am approaching becoming a parent these memories are appearing clearer to me. I have flashbacks and reminders of how comforting and awesome my childhood was. I want our kids to have memories of us laughing with our friends and dancing on Saturdays nights and getting to stay up late just because. Spending all day at the lake, April bonfires with hot dogs and s’mores, road trips with loud singing and Christmases with cousins in Sweden.
Funny how a Friday evening can bring up a whole spectrum of memories and inspire future ones at the same time.