The week ends

Here in the Great White North (Canada, where we all live in igloos and have beavers for pets), the end of this week heralds the arrival of the Victoria Day weekend. Monday is a statutory holiday, except for Quebec, which celebrates the Jean Poutine Festival instead, where everyone who supports a sovereign Quebec eats a giant poutine for breakfast before heading off to the depanneur (convenience store to the rest of the planet) to play the scratch lottos and clean them out of their beer inventory.

Which is all well and good, but has relatively little to do with how my work week ended barely an hour ago.

I was busy trying to get through as much work as possible before leaving. Long weekends are great, but they simply mean five (plus) days of work crammed into four. So before I knew it, I was one of the last people left in the building.

When it finally dawned on me that it was beyond late, I went to get ready for the bike ride home. When I came back to grab the last couple of things from my desk, the message light on my phone was on. I hesitated for a second because I really wanted to leave, and didn't want to get involved in any more work. But I reached for the phone and logged into my voicemail box.

I'm glad I did, because a very small voice spoke very tentatively into my ear:
"Hi Daddy. It's Noah. I miss you. Bye."

I left immediately and rode straight home for a very cuddly hug from a sweet 4-year-old. Work will simply have to wait until next week.