It is the most perfect time of the week.
You ease into a Sunday morning as you would a comfy pair of slippers. With work commitments gone, the body relaxes, the mind frees.
My day started around family, chatting up the wife and watching my son gift-wrap lemon squares he’d made from scratch. We took in our favorite magazine show on CBS, enjoying segments that made the heart soar.
Afterward, I took a run, accompanied only by my shadow and heavy breathing.
With solitude comes clarity.
I took in the smell of burning leaves, the sound of a distant train, dogs barking. An older woman in her housecoat picked up trash by her mailbox. Flags on front porches waved in the wind.
The thumping in my chest quickens.
I arrive home. It is Sunday morning and life is beautiful.