Sunday

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It’s no secret that Sundays are sacred at our house. I guard those quiet, slow hours with my life. I protect them from the outside world as I know how precious and fleeting they can be.

Yesterday was no exception. After a beautiful, unexpectedly warm Saturday and time outside, it was a nice contrast to find myself indoors, snuggled safe and sound. That’s what home should be, isn’t it? Safe and sound, that is.

Time to do those things that are small in nature, but difficult to start, such as touching up paint on the cabinets or hanging some artwork; or perhaps starting to knit the sleeves on that sweater that has languished for far too long. Slow, quiet Sundays provide an opportunities a short morning nap, a lengthy shower not measured by the clock or time to get all of the laundry done.

I love Sundays. I love the rituals we have incorporated into them. I only wish for more.

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