Sundays …

Sunday NY Times

Sunday mornings ..

The NY Times and hot coffee.
Turn off the ‘do’ brain and activate the ‘be’ brain.


Outside, a pickup game of basketball. Young men in t-shirts with a jukebox for accompanying their jump shots and fast dribbles.

Two young girls – maybe 8 – on razors chatting up their school week and the state of their bicycles.

I walk the dog. Buster picks up messages and leaves messages.  Our neighbor Eileen stops to chat and stroke his long soft hair.  A gorgeous day we agree – free from the blasting winds of earlier in the week.

Pelicans soar. Songbirds fill the trees with melodies.

Maybe it’s a kind of Norman Rockwell moment – like I should head to the kitchen and bake a pie (if I knew how to bake a pie!).

Sundays. Lazy. The way the end of the week was intended.

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