I know I am not alone in this. Most people look foreword to the weekend with delirious zeal. Free time on the weekends that is not taken up by chores, family obligations, and errands are usually full of adventure and fun. I totally agree with this.
But there is something extra special about Sundays.
Maybe its the fact that most Sundays involves pancakes. I rarely sit down for breakfast, it is usually on the go, but Sundays I make some effort. My husband, who values his life, wakes me up with coffee, and the scent of Columbian beans is shortly infused with bacon, buttermilk pancake mix, and sugary maple syrup.
After breakfast the rest of the day is filled with church and little jobs around the house. This past Sunday I was draped over the kitchen table working on my latest sewing project: a gorgeous dark green herringbone coat. Meanwhile, in the garage, Justin was wrenching on his old-school 911. He babied the gorgeous machine, washing it and painting the calipers the silver of a freshly minted dime.
Once his work (and mine) were complete, he took me for a long cruise through the winding Kentucky country roads. I love these memories: cool air rushing through my hair, the scent of fall, and the taste of sunshine.
The sunlight fading over the rolling hills and the sound of that howling flat six. Good night Sunday.
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