Sundays come and go in our life. Not more remarkable than the other days in week…but still a habit well worn and comfortable around our shoulders. We read, walk and talk. The day passes away easily. Our live are bound up in Sundays…each one noted and stored away.
When a day feels lazy and just a little to0 long we will say “sure seems like Sunday”. When we eat fried chicken and our family gathers around our table we will say “sure seems like Sunday”. We love this day of the week but always look forward to Monday. It is like a rebirth and imitates the changing of the seasons. Mondays bring things to be done, responsibilities or even recreation as those younger than us head back to work and leave empty places for us to play. We begin anew.
When Friday approaches we are ready for a break…we nestle down into our small world and rest so we can begin again. We are more comfortable with the turning of the clock than we were when we were younger. There is not a dwelling on a dark sky or a joint that aches. We greet every day as a gift…one more chance to do those things we love…the things we enjoy because there are things we do not love. Even those serve a purpose.
Be well…and have a wonderful week.