It’s Easy like a Good Sunday Morning

Sunday is a day that I use to loathe, it was the end of the weekend, and it spoke of the unexpected doom and gloom of the daily commute on the Paoli local. Work had maddening pressures of annoying sales people bothering the marketing staff with unreasonable demands and deadlines. Ah, Sunday night was also delightfully uneasy with “after dinner anxiety.” That Sunday feeling would pretty much continue until Monday afternoon when I’d get back into the work week rut. Weekly I would fret with angst and Sunday seemed the best day to do this to myself. Of course, it was after I would figure out what dinner was going to be, clean, wash, and if I were lucky listen to Sunday with Sinatra, maybe head over to Suburban Square for some take your mind off of work and your home life therapy, a.k.a. retail therapy, usually I wasn’t allowed. But back in those days my life was much different for many reasons.

Today, I still have pressures, but not the inflamed heaviness of Sunday’s past. As I sit here writing in the early morning hours the house is quiet, the house is clean and doesn’t stink of cigarette smoke or a nasty ashtray. My trash can doesn’t have 2 cases of beer cans left over from the previous days drinking, (not mine). My home is a happy one now. I have a man that makes me smile. And I have dogs that make me smile, yes; 3 Jack Russell Terriers to be exact (in my previous life, I wasn’t allowed to have a dog.) When I get up early like this my dogs congregate at my feet under my desk and sleep peacefully. A warm fat cat uses my lap as her personal lounge chair and there is a comfort to this ritual that can’t be explained, there is peace now, no more anxiety.

The background noises are sea gulls laughing and a fog horn shouting faintly from the back bay. Noise from a flag flapping in the breeze and clinking against the pole reminds me of something my ex-husband said long ago; “that sound makes me feel lonely.” None of these sounds make me feel lonely, only secure and comfortable.

My home office has a window that overlooks the bay and is by far the most treasured and coveted spot in my house – it’s where I do most of my work, my writing, my thinking, my dreaming and sometimes just gazing. I see a lot of things happen from this spot, truth be told, I am a voyeur, I like gawking and watching and I tuck all of those gaping moments into the back of my brain for feature storytelling. Writers are storytellers and this place allows me to think freely and creatively.

As morning tries to set in it seems like the sky is slow in waking up today. The “things to do list,” isn’t what it use to be from Sunday’s of the past. On the list; run on the sea wall in North Wildwood, stop at the market, maybe a drive to do antiquing and maybe even make a few stops along the way to check out holiday decorating and gift ideas, taking the dogs for a walk on the beach is a must do on the list. Still there is the cooking and baking as in the past, but this time around there is a man that appreciates it, a man that has no problem making dinner for two or working on a project, a man that let’s me have my space and time and a man that doesn’t spend the entire day drinking and smoking. What a difference a Sunday can make it’s easy like a good Sunday morning.


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