I come into the house - loaded with bags.
And unload the burdens.
In here, I sit in a worn chair.
They've gotten some new ones too since I've been away.
I hear familiar sounds. An old creaking fan, the dog's tail thumping as she chases frogs in her sleep, our grandfather clock ticking away the bounds of Sunday.
And outside, I mostly hear birds and nothing but pre-storm breezes, and the occasional car through the village - maybe a lazy lawnmower breaking Sunday's quiet.
Sunday's have been my favorite days.
Collective sleepiness of Christians and small communities.
Everyone walks slower - talks longer.
Strangers rest in stares and smiles in parking lots.
We sip coffees, and silence.
We turn pages slow.
We find cozy blankets, and windowsills lit with gentle Sunday light - and sleep.
Today, I am thankful:
- for face to face.
- T & M and one month.
- M's nap.
- J's stories.