A Real Friday

February 25th was a great day. No, it was not just a day. It was a historic moment in my life. Not only was it a turning point in my existence, but it was a Friday. A real Friday.

By most people's calendars, there were 39 Fridays from the end of May, 2021 to February 25th, 2022. By my calendar only one of those was a Friday. The others were just days--false Fridays in a Friday-less week. No, my calendar is not broken; it just determines the days differently. 

You know how, during a long summer break, you kind of lose track of what day it is. The weekdays feel like weekends, Mondays aren't so bad anymore, and you only know time is progressing because you go to church each Sunday? That happens to me on those long breaks, too. It's usually a good feeling: the feeling of going through life without worrying about a schedule. 

I started to lose track of days during the school week, too. But, inevitably, something throughout my busy day would remind me of the difference between a Monday and a Wednesday (like what extracurriculars I did that day, for example) and I always knew when the weekends were. The way I knew it was a Friday, however, was unique to all the other days. There was pizza.

My friend Miguel got hot lunch on Fridays and that was the day that the school catered pizza and pasta from Streets of New York. He got the pizza. In my freshman year, I realized that seeing Miguel sitting at our lunch table with his pizza was when I remembered or realized again that it was Friday. And who doesn't love a Friday? One week, I sat down and said to him, "Miguel, I'm always glad when I see you with pizza, because that means it's Friday." And that was it. Those words became weekly tradition and by my sophomore year, any Friday Miguel's pizza was not there, the day felt incomplete and not truly a Friday. Then, COVID...

The pandemic took Fridays from my life. No school. No lunch with Miguel. No pizza. When we returned to campus in my junior year, Miguel didn't get hot lunch on Fridays. True, the quality of the pizza had diminished significantly, but I was still disappointed. I had lost my Friday. What is a week without a Friday? It is like a day without the sun, a flower without water, or a shoe without a sock. Second Thursdays were in abundance and so that one true Friday near the end of my junior year was exponentially significant and memorable.

Senior year continued the trend of Friday-less weeks, until February 25th. Absence had made my heart grow fonder and any true Friday had become so special to me. Miguel knew. He brought pizza on my birthday to make my birthday the first real Friday in nearly a year. 

It was like magic, like the moment when spring returned to the winter-desolated Narnia. The thoughtfulness of a good friend reinvigorated tradition and Fridays returned. That was just the start of my joy, however. On that real Friday, not only did I turn 18, but I received a full-tuition scholarship to my dream school (Texas Christian University). I am still beyond happiness and excitement. It just goes to show you what can happen on a Friday.