Sunday

When I was a kid Sunday was a real thing.

Sunday had legs, it was its own day, it looked, felt, and sounded different than its six brothers. Many businesses were closed, banks were closed, there was no internet, no cell phones. Many people actually had weekends off.

On Saturday you would run around and take care of errands, all the annoying little things you needed to get done, to have, so you can live your life. Maybe go out on Friday night, Saturday night, lay your burdens down and pick your whiskey up. Get a little crazy.

On Sunday people chilled. You could really unplug from life because life was shut down to an appreciable extent.

You could feel it. It was a tangible exhalation of breath. Privacy. Peace. Rest. Quiet

Sunday dinner was a thing. Sunday dinner was a must in my house, quite ritualistic and I miss it, although I did not appreciate it at the time.  People visited, or they stayed home and read the paper with their feet up.

Then the world went 24/7 - everything, always, all the time. A lot less people have weekends off now, and it kind of doesn't really matter because the concept of a "weekend off" no longer exists. You gotta be on all the time.

There is no escape from life. People do not think of Sundays in the same way at all.

But I do. I still get a sense of peace on Sundays. It's in my head, but I still enjoy it. I feel like nothing can touch me on Sunday, I feel safe. I feel authorized to goof off. I love long, lazy Sundays.

I feel good today.