Friday.

     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,
     and with,
     other people.
     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

      By Sunday
      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?