Saturday morning, again. Seems like the older you get the faster the days of the week sail on by.
Looking back, Saturday was always a big day, no school for the week-end, just free to do whatever.
In the winter, my good friend Gene and I would take off cross country on our ski's. We would pack a lunch in our nap sacks, ski until noon, eat frozen PB&J sandwiches, then backtrack home. Gene had a longer stride than I did, so it was a job keeping up with him, as he would set trail. Other Saturdays it was hockey on the frozen lake close to our home. These were just pick up games with the neighborhood kids. Nothing like getting slapped with the stick when it's around zero! One Saturday, we had a pretty rough game going and I slid into my best friend, breaking his collar bone. I don't think he ever forgave me for that one! There was always something to do in Michigan in the winter, Ice fishing was another adventure. Hours of numbing cold for a few skinny perch or pickerel!
By contrast, Saturday in the summer was always wash the car for that hot date, mow the lawn, or once in a while a family pic nic at Wolf lake. In my early teens, my folks would drive me to Chicago where I would take "The City of New Orleans" down to Mississippi to spend the summer with my grandmother. That's another whole set of stories! Now, that I am retired, everyday can be Saturday if you want it to be, but the day itself, Saturday, still has a special meaning in that there are errands to be run, and small projects to do.
When I get to thinking about the way it used to be, it reminds me of a song Simon and Garfunkel did years ago called "Old Men". The last line in the song says "Preserve your memories, they're all that's left you".
Maybe, Saturdays are just for being contemplative too!