Sunday Stuff

It's 10:00 on Sunday morning.

I'm propped in bed, waiting for the moment when silence upstairs tells me that Grandma has left for church.

Then, I spring into action.  Sort of.

Laundry.  Washing the sheets on my bed and towels in the bathroom.  Various cleaning tasks.  Taking the garbage out.

But it's Sunday, and I'm feeling reflective too.

Tired.  Longing.

Pondering the internal stuff.  The stuff that is shifting and changing inside me.  The stuff I'm still hesitating to say out loud, or even in writing, in fear that it will dissipate in the face of exposure to the world.

I'm thinking about timing.  About God's timing and mine.

And more of those "you want me to what?" moments.

I'm waiting and praying.

Remembering moments of laughter from last night, which was so much better and less awkward than I thought it would be.

Thinking about relationships, and the shifts inside of me that I'm feeling there too.

Later, there will be family stuff.  At least a little family stuff.

Some meal planning.  Cooking perhaps.

Possibly some yoga, to stretch the muscles that ache this morning, telling me that yesterday's massage really did work and ease the muscles in my shoulders, neck and back - leftovers from an accident that is now three months in the past.

Maybe a conversation with friends.

Or, if the weather permits, a walk at the zoo or in the park.  The weather likely won't permit today, but it's a nice thought.

It's Sunday, and this is my day. 

Not quite what my Sunday's once were, but quiet and routine in it's own, different way.