The weekend.

Sometimes you spend the weekend on the motorway, mind-numbing hours staring out at the sunshine, the glorious golden evening you’re enjoying from behind glass. Getting home in time for your energy levels to crash. Having a little cry on the sofa because you’re just so bloody tired and going to bed, despite the fact that, Whatsapps aside, you’ve barely spoken to your other half since Friday lunchtime. Wondering while you brush your teeth if you have anything clean to wear to work the next day.

Sometimes you spend the weekend desperately trying to hold it all together.

But sometimes…

Tram 2Tram 1Tram 3

Sometimes you spend it in a field, in the sunshine, with your best friend. Drinking cider and singing your favourite songs, the ones they never play, as loud as you can, not caring if the crowd around you can hear. Eating chips for tea and walking home with glitter on your face. Remembering how good bass feels in your chest and joy feels in your heart. Throwing your head back and your hands to the sky and finally going to bed with your legs aching from dancing. Catching yourself thinking, “I deserve this.”

Hold on to those weekends. Grab them as they slip through your fingers. There will be so many cold, dark, rainy days, so many miles and miles of motorway, when you can open that box, take out those memories, hold them up and say… that was fun.

Tram 7Tram10

Sometimes you’ll need them.

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