I Miss You Most on Mondays
March 11th, 2026
Writer: Claudia Hurst
My childhood was characterized by weeks of jam-packed activity. The Monday morning carpool to school kickstarted a series of nonstop soccer, field hockey, or lacrosse games, acting rehearsals, Hebrew school tutoring, and music lessons. These full weeks were balanced by slower, family-oriented weekends. Morning dog walks through my neighborhood, sacred football watching on the couch, and Sunday family dinners were deeply held rituals. When the inevitable business of the week returned, and my family resumed moving in our many separate orbits, my dad would turn to my mom and say, “I miss you most on Mondays.”
On the surface, the beauty of this remark lies in its message about how lucky we are to miss things. It captures the initial difficulty of returning to normalcy when our recent experiences are better than our reality, but reinforces the gratitude in experiencing moments we wish we could return to when they are gone.
In a similar way, a Midwestern summer descends into fall with a variety of shades of red leaves and dropping temperatures, making space for the immense chill and grey of the winter, only to return us to the warm and green terrain we once knew and missed so dearly. As a girl who grew up in eternal sunshine, my four years in Michigan marked the beginning of my seasonal awareness. With every passing season, I romanticize the feelings of the last – the sun shining on my face, the leaves changing colors in front of my eyes, the first snowfall that covers the ground in a pillowy white blanket. Every year, the sun returns to Ann Arbor, and every week, the days march back to Friday. We understand the passage of time through these changes in our environment; we understand gratitude through the ability to reflect on the happiness we experienced in moments that have just passed.
Recognizing this passage of time also reminds us that the true misfortune is not the act of missing something when it is gone, but to never experience those joys at all. For if we never got to experience those beautiful moments, perhaps our hearts would not ache when they have passed, but our lives are fuller and more vibrant for their presence. Even when it exists as a memory. This idea reminds me of my high school graduation quote, “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”(Winnie the Pooh).
These lessons have always resonated with me from my dad’s familiar words, but recently I reflected on a new layer to this message.
Now empty nesters, without a house of kids running around, sporting events to attend, and carpools to administer, my parents’ weeks remain very full with their own careers and passions. While they continuously play the supporting roles in the lives of many people around them, they balance these expectations with their own professional paths, projects, and hobbies. “I miss you most on Mondays” continues to resonate.
As I prepare to embark on my independent journey as a young adult, I am greatly inspired by the way my parents show that a full life is meant to be multidimensional. We are not meant to follow a single path, confine ourselves to one version of our identities, or even share our lives with only one person. Instead, the weeks are meant for exploration, pursuing what fulfills us as individuals, and returning to a familiar comfort and ease when the week ends.
The message “I miss you most on Mondays” has become almost a call to action – a recognition that missing people and things we love is part of forging our own paths. While I can appreciate the slow routines of the weekend, I recognize that while I am busy and challenged on the days in between, I am growing. This quote has become a reminder to stay connected to my own personal journey, evolving during the hard work of the week, understanding that I will reunite with those that I miss to share the stories and lessons of my weekly adventures when I return.
