Sunday, January 29, 2017

I was sitting and cross stitching this afternoon and my mind wandered back to Sunday afternoons at home. After the rush of Sunday School, lunch, and then back to Church, I remember the quiet of a Sunday afternoon. I don’t know how I spent those afternoons, maybe reading or doing homework, but my mind was relaxed and quiet. There were Sunday drives in the summer and often a drive over-West to look at the crops. I remember the smell of a roast cooking as we came in the door from church and, in summer, fruit salad and ice cream for supper.

Sunday evenings meant Bonanza, with Mum doing her embroidery in the chair beside the stereo. There were times when someone (and occasionally Dad) was getting their hair curled, but most likely it was Stacia and I with curlers in our hair.

For as long as I remember I’ve hated Sunday nights. I remember laying in bed on a Sunday night not wanting to start the new week. Whether there was school or work the next day I just didn’t want my time at home to be over. I realize now though that I no longer dread Sunday night – my weeks are filled with (mostly) things I love doing.

And speaking of things I love doing – I’m going to go back to my cross stitching.