The Weekend is over

Saturday had its slow start, tea in hand before anyone else was up. A trip into town for bits and pieces, the children squabbling over which biscuits to choose, Tom holding the basket with that patient look he gets when the aisle is taking too long. The afternoon passed in a blur of laundry, lunch, and a walk by the river when the sun finally broke through.

Sunday was for the house. Beds changed, the smell of fresh sheets still crisp in the air. The children spent the afternoon in the garden, coming in with pink cheeks and grass-stained socks. You cooked a roast, not perfect, but good enough that Tom went back for seconds. There were moments of noise and laughter, moments where you felt tired, and then the little pockets of stillness you tried to stretch out as long as possible.

And now, with the weekend folded away behind you, the house is quiet again. The children are asleep. Tom is already in bed, scrolling through something on his phone with the light low.

You have a quick shower, just enough to wash off the day. A towel over your skin, knickers, pyjama trousers and a soft old T-shirt on, and you pad barefoot into the bedroom.

You set your phone down on the bedside table, screen lighting your face as you scroll to the alarm. 6:30 a.m. Enough time to get yourself ready before the school run. You’ve been working for the council for years now, handling housing cases and paperwork that never seems to end. Some days it’s rewarding, some days it’s just frustrating forms and phone calls.

Your mornings are always the same: kettle on, tea in hand before anyone else is awake, packed lunches made, breakfast plates on the table, then upstairs to make sure they are actually out of bed. You usually leave the house by 8:15, dropping them at school before heading to the office.

You plug your phone in, double-check the alarm, and slide under the duvet. Tom shifts beside you, half-asleep, murmuring something you don’t quite catch. You close your eyes, the quiet hum of the house wrapping around you, and before you know it, you’re drifting off, the weekend behind you, Monday already waiting in the wings.