After wrestling with the blankets all night and waking up so tangled up that I could barely get out of bed, I realized it is Sunday. Sunday and I can sleep without an alarm. Sunday and I can make a tasty brunch. Sunday and I can just be lazy and happy. I can do what I want.
I read an article about being resurrected. I browsed through Facebook and even made a couple of posts. I waited to put on clothes, preferring my pajamas and no bra.
I felt like a cat who finds a spot of sun to take a nap. I felt like a stack of pancakes. I felt like journaling in a hammock.
I felt like experiencing the silence you find in an empty church building.
Sunday feels like a warm blanket and a nap.
Published by KarenPopeWrites
I was born in the 1950’s, live in a 126-year-old house in Virginia, I am retired and spend a great deal of my time writing. I have lived through the Kennedy assassination, civil rights, Neil Armstrong on the moon, and 9/11/2001. I have seen the Vietnam war, the war in Middle East, the war on drugs, Star Wars, and the war between men and women. I have written hundreds of short stories and essays and a handful of novels. Only one novel was (self) published and one poem published in a collection.
I have been a writer my whole life, creating my first stories when I was still in elementary school.
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