Short Stories From 10 Years Ago – May 9, 2004
Short Stories From 10 Years Ago – May 9, 2004 – Kris Kristofferson wrote a wonderful song called Sunday Morning Coming Down that I’ve always loved. The lyrics are beautiful and whenever I hear it, I stop and think a moment, mostly about family. The chorus touches something in my soul.
Whenever I’m up early on Sunday and take Augie for a walk around my neighbourhood, I’m aware of a blissful quiet that is missing on other days. This morning I thought about all the people still sleeping snug in their beds, or having breakfast with one another, perhaps for the first time in the week. Work and school will return soon enough, but for now, cars are parked and quiet.
Buses and trolleys are still running but they aren’t packed with people. Sometimes they pass by empty, except for the driver. I watched a tabby cat stretch on the front porch of a house and then settle back down to snooze. Augie doesn’t even notice, he’s too intent on sniffing every square inch of the sidewalk. A man peddled slowly by on a bicycle and nods an easy good morning and I can see a woman making coffee in the café up the street from my house.
It will be busy soon, but for now the “closed” sign is still on the door. Sunday is a day of rest, relaxation, family gatherings, church, spiritual reflection and re-grouping. For most of us, another busy work week is just ahead, but Sunday lets us forget about phone calls, presentations, meetings, correspondence and deadlines.
When I was growing up it was a day for family. We always had Sunday dinner together and my mother often invited people who lived alone to join us for the evening meal. She felt that nobody should have to eat alone on this day of rest. I think she was right. Being alone on a Sunday is different from other days. It has a certain melancholy, and to alleviate that, it’s a wonderful idea to establish some traditions.
What a great day to enjoy brunch with friends, go to an afternoon movie, have coffee and read a book, putter in the garden, go to the museum or the art gallery, be still and quiet, have a nap, visit someone who needs cheering up, volunteer to help someone with a task that they can’t do alone or just go for a stroll. Not a deliberate walk, but just a casual saunter with no particular destination in mind.
If you have work that has to be done, then get at it early in the day and give it a couple hours of your undivided attention. Then put it away. Give yourself the gift of the balance of the day. Sunday was God’s designated day of rest and He knew a good thing when he suggested it.
Society has strayed a long way from that ideal and I usually neglect to honour it as well. I miss the connection to ‘Sunday’ in my life, and it’s something I’m going to work towards again. Even if I just start by making myself a nice Sunday dinner. What better way to acknowledge my need for a well-deserved rest, than to make Sunday sacrosanct, whenever possible.