I slip off my loop earrings and bracelets
toss them in my purse.
At a light, I fish around and find
a semi-clean tissue and wipe off
the red lipstick.
High heels have long been exiled
to the back seat
and yet I pull into my driveway and know
I have not stripped myself entirely of the work week.
Half this and half that,
I take a deep breath and walk through the door.
Friday's here but we are all still there.
The four of us will spend the night
painfully becoming our Weekend Selves.
We have, after all, spent the week as,
We have lived
in other places.
The sun will set on the weekday
and four ghosts will wander from room to room.
There will be crying meltdowns or
absent eyes sitting in front of a screen.
By Sunday we'll start to recognize each other.
I start to feel like more than just
She Who Nags about homework, dinner, baths.
The house sighs.
Often we decide
to stay in our pajamas and lay around all day
Friday feels so far away...
but so often now I learn something new
about these people I live with:
"When did you start saying/doing that?"
"You didn't tell me that..."
I stare at each of them, bewildered
and try not to wonder
How long before
we remain Friday ghosts,
strangers bumping around the house
with no Sunday in sight?