Sundays. The best of the week.
I stand outside my ground level door inhaling a deep breathe of comfort. Sipping from a mug of too strong coffee and rubbing my cold feet against each other.
A Catholic upbringing instilled sacredness. Morning church, a pressure free social environment where everyone knew the rules, and the rules were so kind and so easy to follow it seemed ridiculous not too.
Sunday’s were a day spent running around family friend’s basements or backyards with siblings and associational friends. The childhood friends one has out of convenience. Adults drinking coffee and talking about terribly important things. Large family meals early and a late bed time story.
No longer do I attend church. Instead, my new found Sunday rituals have only one consistent theme – selfishness. A long lie-in. Coffee with friends to talk about terribly important things. Yesterday’s newspaper. Roy McGregor articles if I can find them.
A casual introspective moment or two throughout the day.
And, a late bedtime story.