other people’s weekend

Friday mornings are quiet on the marina. It’s the first day of the weekend and the usual, relentless sound of construction you hear all week long finally stops. The speed boats and jet skis that normally zip up and down the waterway outside my window are replaced by rowers and kayakers taking advantage of the calm water, and families on yachts trolling the passage, soaking up the sun.

By 10 o’clock, the pool is full of people – not a single table or lounger is free.  Kids with their parents toss a ball, play water tag or see how far they can swim underwater without coming up for air.  Most of the building’s residents – 20 or 30 somethings – sit in the sun or under an umbrella reading the Friday paper, glossy magazines or books, wearing fashionable sunglasses shielding their eyes from the strength of the desert sun.

Me? I head to the gym, jump in the shower, make some coffee, check my email and the Canadian headlines then head to work.

Newspapers don’t stop printing just because it’s other people’s weekend.

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