Sunday
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The October sun brings zest to my bare face and chest. A dry convection permeates my skin and I tell the sun I don’t, won’t, take him for granted. I promise. He is low and is already signaling his impending scarcity. Though I’m happy for the southern hemisphere, I’m gonna miss him.
His golden rays illuminate the hairs on my face and a creature, one I love, plucks the stragglers that connect my right and left eyebrow. And then the course ones on the mole of my right arm, and then the dark new ones that have started sprouting on my shoulders. The creature straddles my lap and her eyes emanate care, intensity, and pleasure. I can hear the popping noises of the saliva from her mouth and her breath is focused. We both relish in the satisfying crack of each plucked hair and a deep wave of simplicity washes our bodies. It is enough to draw my mind, our minds, into the blissful state of nothingness.
It’s Sunday and there’s nothing to do.
The leaves are colorful and a couple drop through the crisp air and land directly upon our sun baked bodies. The creature continues to inspect my skin, combing every inch with the soft pad of her pointer finger. She finds what she’s looking for and her eyes light up, noticeable only to me. She doesn’t know how intently I watch her, nor does she care, and a quick rip-and-crack has her back to hunting.
The blank canvas of Sunday is pleasant, rejuvenating. I want to hang, recover, lay, chat, touch, and let my mind pontificate how our ancestors might have done this exact same thing, under this exact same sun, some thousand years ago.
Our ancestors didn’t divide earth’s rotations into weekdays though… did they ever get to experience a proper Sunday? Did they ever have to get to experience a proper Monday? Or was every day simply anew? At once, I am sad they never got Sunday’s and envious they got to see each day as it is, without label or expectation.
Today feels unique and we’re letting it unfold as it may. I feel pings and urges to go accomplish, to achieve, to do. That is, until the snap of a hair reminds me that we’re human beings, not human doings.
It’s Sunday and there’s nothing to do.
***