everyone has a different idea of a perfect weekend, i'm sure, and god knows mine has changed over the years, but currently, this is it:
- on friday evening, an express train—double-decker—to trenton with no one next to you and josh ritter on your ipod to lull you into a restorative, quasi-nap.
- the yankees on the radio in your dad’s car for the 45-minute drive home—on the way you pick up a delicious-smelling pizza and a-rod hits an a-bomb.
- fresh apple cinnamon muffins saturday morning, baked by your mother, and a funny trip to a local craft store with your dad.
- that afternoon, your parents happily helping you tackle the project that all week made you feel tired just thinking about: assembling wedding invitations—seven parts to each one—and stuffing them into the correct envelopes, all while the yankees are on TV, playing their hearts out against the team you despise the most.
- perfectly garlicky shrimp scampi for dinner made by your mom followed by a nerdy but much-needed early bedtime with no sirens or shouting or traffic outside the windows, just a steady, soothing rain falling.
- a long run in the lingering rain sunday morning, seemingly before the rest of the world is awake, with nothing but the sound of your sneakers hitting the pavement and sights and smells you’ve known since childhood making you feel so at peace.
- surprising your dad by making a quick trip to the local bake shop for donuts—he thought you were just going to get the Times. (he’ll call you evil but really he’s as psyched as you to have dessert after breakfast.)
- sunday night baseball miraculously becoming sunday afternoon baseball, ensuring you won’t fall asleep and miss your team clinching its division in a glorious moment that honestly feels like the good ol’ days.
- as the sun is sinking, an hour in the hot tub to ease the aches and kinks that came from the aforementioned invite assembly and just life in general—you and your dad have a really nice talk about life, about buying a house, about writing a novel... a must-do, in his opinion, even if no one else ever reads it.
- chicken cacciatore for dinner, made by your mom (is she the best or what?) with perfect garlic bread to sop up the sauce and a delicious chianti to boot.
- a serene night’s sleep on a sunday night, likely due to the fact that you accomplished so much with tremendous help and had forty-eight hours straight of laughs, crosswords, amazing meals, perfect victories and unconditional love that only really, really good parents can provide.
- by monday morning, despite the early wake-up call, you feel more like yourself than you have in a few weeks. well worth the price of a round-trip ticket to trenton.