Between 6:00 AM and 11:00 AM on Sunday has always been a sacred time for me. Whether in church or not, its my favorite time of the week. After 12 o'clock, the serenity breaks, and the real world comes crashing through.
This morning, I was supposed to go to church, but being so amped from events going on around me, I chose to skip out. Yeah, shoulda went, I know. I need to get my spiritual groove-on back in motion. It's all but depleted of late.
July was a crash course in "don't underestimate how quickly life can change from good to no-so-good in a heartbeat!" Been pissed off, overcome with hurt, sad, feelin' betrayed, lonely, but mostly exhausted. Too much negativity! Church helped, but then I backslid and misses a Sunday here and there....
Despite not going again this morning, I took time to bask in tranquil nature sounds on my deck, sipping iced coffee, smoking a cigarette, and reading the newspaper. Usually, during the week, all you hear is the busy daily grind of traffic, neighborhood kids, or cops. Sunday morning always feels so damn great, like everything is right with the world. So calm, so peaceful.
When I was a child living with my father, Sunday had a special place. The only time when I felt important in his life, significant. We had our ritual. We'd listen to WHUR-FM's Sunday Jazz, read the paper, then prepare for brunch at Mr. Henry's, a quaint tavern/bar/restaurant over in Southeast DC. After that, we'd maybe go over to The Mall or Rock Creek Park, do something silly, then trek over to my grandparents' house for dinner.
Sunday morning has always recharged me. It gives me hope to hang in there before the reality of the week hits! Today was so idyllic, so peaceful sitting on the deck, I relaxed and enjoyed all that could be absorbed. There's a comfortable breeze (it was actually a little chilly) and the sun is out, no overcast like yesterday. My worries are a thing of the past. At least for a little while.