Sunday Mornings

I used to hate Sunday mornings. For no particular reason other than the next day was Monday. Not even the sun warming my skin and the cool blissful environment of my room could soothe me. I wanted so badly to have another night to stay up late. I wanted another morning to sleep in and another day to spend doing what I wanted. Even though I had a day in front of me to live, I was holding out for my next weekend. I would spend the entire day dreading Monday. Waiting for my next Friday to come around again.

I spent 18 years like this, stuck in this repetitive cycle. Living like a robot on a set routine, I didn’t make an effort to use the time I had positively. It took another person to bring out a love for life in me. It was unexpected and terrifying. I trampled like a baby deer into a lifestyle of doing what I love every day. I write, I create, I work hard on things that make me happy. I have the courage to pursue my aspirations and it’s all as a result of August of 2017, when I got into a relationship where we lived together from the moment we met in a college dorm.

Now she wakes up first and lets me sleep until I wake up on my own. The first thing I see is her brown eyes. Her face is always soft and glowing in the morning. She always greets me with a hug that makes me appreciate her warmth. I can feel the sun on my skin and I welcome it. I always laugh within the first five minutes of my day. There’s a sleepy fat cat passed out between my legs. I’m experiencing complete relaxation, enjoying the moment and not waiting for the next one. We stay in bed until we’re hungry enough to get up.

She knows the best places to eat. Where the people don’t stare at you if you speak or act differently. She makes me explore a city I’ve lived in my whole life but never left the same four streets.

We get breakfast and she orders something healthy. I get something plain with meat and cheese. We usually sit outside to enjoy the cool, crisp morning. I savor every bite of the bagel I get in the place ducked off of our sleepy city streets.

In the midst of enjoying my Sunday’s, somehow, before I was able to notice or decide, either way, I was no longer living for my next Friday. I was enjoying every day, not just Sunday. I had a new appreciation for the most mundane of tasks. I spent every day with my best friend and every hour was influential to our story.

I would never have written again or put it out there for strangers to read. I never would have expected someone to get value from my words and inspiration from my experiences.

If you consider the average life of 82 years and take into account how much time humans spend sleeping, and wishing away their weekdays, what you end up with is astonishingly small. It’s important to grab onto a piece of happiness and use it to get through the rest. Do what you love, pursue your passion, and don’t settle for anything less than total fulfillment in work or your relationships. Time is precious, and limited.

I’m so thankful to enjoy my Sunday’s. I love exploring my city and eating delicious new food. I love to express my creativity and make money doing what I love. I have a full heart fueled by the most inspirational muse. I encourage you to find your own little piece of the sun.