I’m all about life’s simple joys. Watching the sunrise from my balcony. A genuine smile from a stranger on the streets. Seeing a grandfather walk hand in hand with his granddaughter. The cool breeze on my skin on a summer’s night. The first taste of a slice of bread fresh out of the oven. The smell of something being baked filling the house.

One of my enduring favourites, though, is the simple joy of a Saturday morning.

You know those mornings. The ones where you enjoy the thought of a whole workless day ahead of you. There’s something special about the morning energy of those days. There’s little to no urgency, and a lot of opportunities that might or might not be taken. The ideal Saturday, to me, is devoid of a fixed routine and filled with possibilities.

The possibility of going to the farmer’s market. The possibility of whiling away the hours on the sofa reading a book. The possibility of discovering a new restaurant in town. The possibility of catching up with a dear friend over coffee. The possibility of a hike in the hills of the Kathmandu valley. The possibility of video calling my family. The possibility of going away for the weekend. The possibility of a day of spontaneity, where one thing unwittingly leads to another.

The possibility of doing nothing at all.

While my morning coffee is something I look forward to on all days of the week, there’s something special about it on a Saturday morning. It’s the first day of rest after a long week, and a moment to take a deep breath and feel rested. Society seems to put so much emphasis on being busy and productive the whole time, which can seep into your subconscious no matter how “anti-busyness” you are, myself included.

Saturday mornings, though, are sacred. I even postpone worrying for those few hours. It’s the one time of the week when I give myself permission to be selfish and enjoy the stillness.

On that note, I’m going to keep this short and sweet. I was up until the ungodly hour of 3 am last night, talking to my brother and godson in Cyprus. I’m shattered, so I’m going to allow myself to be imperfect and not agonise over the length or content or tone of this blog post.

Because it’s Saturday, after all.

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