on a Sunday
On a Sunday, I sleep in while my child watched a little more TV than usual
On a Sunday, I savor a slow, leisurely brunch with my little family and endless coffee
On a Sunday, I read about vampires or Big Brother or betrayal or death and life
On a Sunday, I play with my child--catch or dominoes or ewoks-and-Princess-Leia or horned meat-eating dinos
On a Sunday, I go for a drive in the farmland, the windy mountains, and along the ocean, amazed that I ever came into being to see it
On a Sunday, I marvel at Matisse, fall into a jarring blue, and wonder at mirrors and light
On a Sunday, I wander through the displays of science and history and am content that though I missed it before, I am learning it now
On a Sunday I linger over lunch because the conversation is even better than the food
On a Sunday, I am smiles and hugs and (unwanted) goodbyes, because I know even three days wouldn't have been enough
On a Sunday, I am dizzy with joy at finally sharing my face, my name, my story, me, without the filter of anonymity
On a Sunday, I chat about what I want to, because I can, and I am better than ever before
2 comments:
That's beautiful!!!
My Sunday isn't quite so poetic. It's more like I spend the whole day telling myself I'm going to clean up the house. Then I don't do it. Oh, well, at least I spent time playing with my kids and had a nice phone conversation with my mom...
And what a beautiful and very real YOU.
You and Mr FTA and little FTA are a wonderful family. The greedy part in me wants Sundays like that. Every Sunday.
Post a Comment