Sunday, September 18, 2011
Ever since I quit the rat-race job that had me working most weekends, I've been able to recapture my Sunday mornings.
Though I am by no means a religious person now, I was raised in a church-going family, and I retain certain feelings of observance regarding the last day of the week.
In other words, Sundays still feel sacred to me.
Even when I worked on Sundays, I felt this way. But now that I generally have Sundays to myself, I have begun to truly treasure them. (Actually, I always treasured them, but now I actively enjoy them.)
Sunday mornings are a quiet, reflective time -- a time for contemplation and renewal. I read and think and usually have an indulgent breakfast.
Among the things I take in on Sunday mornings are the week's offerings from Poetry Daily and Postsecret, as well as any 60-Second Science podcasts I've missed. They're dumb little rituals, sure, but they're mine.
And then it's time for football!