Saturdays.

Saturdays were for early morning devotions, followed by a deep clean of the flat.
Saturdays were for Ogi ati Akara, made by Grandma. Breakfast was served, first to Pops, his ogi in a "Pyrex" dish, and his glistening Akara on a mismatched side plate.

Saturdays were for unannounced guests —aunties, uncles, cousins, cousins who weren't biologically cousins, and the friend(s) next door.

Saturdays were for "can we play in the park?" And "only for 30 minutes. Food will soon be ready."

Saturdays were for screaming with joy, swinging to the sun, and running from big unfriendly dogs.

Saturdays were for “Knock Down Ginger.” Poor Ginger, she always got caught.
Saturdays were for Eba, Ila l'asepo ati Obe consumed while sitting on the floor with age mates, watching whatever cable offered.

Saturdays were also for Saturday school—but let's skip this part.

Saturdays were for "Contenders are you ready?!" And for "Gladiators, are you ready?!" Of course, we'd all scream "YES WE ARE!" at both questions, booing Wolf (while admiring his fearsome face 🤭🥰).

On Saturdays, we went on "Blind Dates," saw "Stars In Their Eyes," and dabbled in someone's "Family Fortunes." (Or was that on Fridays? I can't remember).

But I remember that Saturdays were never supposed to be for Triple H, The Rock, or Stone Cold Steve Austin (what a mouthful); but hey, we snuck them in with staged family drama, annoying eyebrows, cans of Texan whoop-ass, and all.
When Saturdays weren't for mattresses in the living room, all in the name of a sleepover, they were for what felt like a million people crammed in a flat only meant for five people, each of the million attentively taking in the word of God in Fellowship.

Saturdays were for sharing bunk beds and giggling way too loud at night (giggling soon turned to bicker and tears and then laughter again).
Saturdays were for "Go to sleep! There's church in the morning! I don't want to hear 'I'm tired' when I wake you up tomorrow!" 

On Saturdays, we waved the Sun good night and welcomed the Moon's shine, and often, our nighttime smiles of satisfaction would mimic the Moon's crescent form as we relived our Saturday.

Many Saturdays were made—funny, loud, and full of things, and as I get older, I can't help but think they were made for these memories.

These Saturdays were made for me.