Saturdays are for clean-ups.
Mrs. David was born and raised in a family where every Saturday is for clean-ups, while during the week everyone goes about their personal work and activities, but on Saturdays, when everyone is known to be at home and resting while they enjoy the weekend, everyone must come together to make sure the house and its environment are kept in order. Almost every angle of the house is touched and cleaned; every Saturday the house is left sparkling and clean.
Now as a mother who runs her own home, she has decided to do the same; Saturday clean-up is like a ritual and a must-do in her house, and sometimes Saturdays scare her children, but they have no other choice than to obey. Everyone in the neighborhood already knows what to expect from Mrs. David and her family every Saturday, and Saturday they start late; neighbors come to ask questions and know if everything is fine and why they have not started or what is taking them so long to start since people enjoy watching them keep the whole area clean.
"Saturday is just around the corner again; I just wish we could skip Saturdays and just get to Sunday." Doris, Mrs. David's daughter, said as she buried her head in her palms.
"I wish so too; truth be told, Saturdays scare me, and the way Mom bangs on the door by 5 a.m just to remind us and make it more annoying. Every Saturday my day starts on a bad note because from the moment I wake up, Mom does not hesitate to remind me of the cleanup." Samuel complained too as he walked out of the room.
Time flies, and it was Saturday already, and the kids were already braced for impact since they already know what to expect.
Gbim gbim, their mom went about knocking on their doors. "Saturdays are for clean-ups," she would say after knocking on their doors.
"Mom, but do we have to do this every Saturday? Why don't we make it every last Saturday of the month?" Doris asked
"Yes, I agree, Mom. Every last Saturday of the month is better than doing this every Saturday. It ruins Saturdays for me." Samuel supported
"One thing I know for sure is even if I make it every last Saturday of the month, you guys would still complain when that time comes, and there would be a lot of work to do if we do that, so no, every Saturday it is. I grew up like that, and you guys would do the same." Mrs. David responded as she continued moving stuff they no longer need into the basement.
Entering the basement, Mrs. David stumbled upon her old, faded album. This album had pictures of her, her childhood friends, and all their parents. In one of the pictures, they were all laughing; it was a day they all went out to the park.
Looking through the album, immediately she was struck by a wave of nostalgia. She remembered the smell of rain as it was a rainy day, the sound of the ice cream truck kept ringing in her head, and how she and her friends ran after the truck and kept running around it kept playing in her head too.
As she continued to dig through the album, Mrs. David discovered more gems and treasures from the past: pictures of her favorite sneakers as a child, her favorite gown, and memories of how she always wanted to wear it every day, but her mom wouldn't let her come running to her, and she found herself smiling sheepishly.
With every new discovery, Mrs. David's nostalgia grew even stronger as she journeyed down memory lane and was completely lost in thoughts: the sleepovers at friends houses, the quarrels and make-ups with friends, and the days of staying up late at night listening to music while talking to her then-boyfriend over the phone.
"I really did think we would end up together." Mrs. David said as she saw a picture of her ex and that of a group of other friends in the album.
As time went on, Mrs. David found herself completely lost in thoughts; memories she thought were long forgotten all came running to her. At some point she smiled, she laughed, and she even shed tears. She realized that nostalgia is only a reminder of the beauty and simplicity of childhood, where there were no bills to pay and no kids to look after, and a time when life was less complicated and the love was more genuine then than what we have now.
Your story ended beautifully, and that final part reminds me that many older people remember more about their childhood than what they had for breakfast. Maybe because nostalgia is really that reminder, as you said. Although my perspective on nostalgia is more sad than happy, I think you addressed it well in that aspect.
Nostalgia can be sad and happy too, it all depends on what we remember..