by Basi Perkins

Too many Fridays have come upon us as casually as the Monday morning madness of rush hour. Long days spent at the hospital, standing by her crib, begin to blend one into the other, and like an avalanche, wipe out the rhythm of living, so that Christmas or summer can become the most ordinary and most dreaded of days. It’s always the same day, where the fluorescent lights and beeping IV pumps confound your circadian clock. “It’s Friday," I said to the doctor, like I could let go, and realizing there was something to look forward to today, something good. Monday approaches with certainty to disappoint us and exhaust diminishing reserves of patience and endurance. Today feels like a Friday, at last.


Basi Perkins is a mother of two young children, and caregiver to a child with a brain tumor. You can read more about her family's journey here.