Sundays

I think have become the most tedious bit. Today, I'm still hiding under the covers. It's cloudy and dark and well, I'm tired and don't see much reason to crawl out into the world.

Becky said to me once when we were discussing being single vs. being in a relationship (Becky is married) - she said, "I am envious of your Friday nights, and you are envious of my Sunday nights." I think it sums most of it up right there.

I recognize that I made a very difficult choice recently and that it will take awhile for all of the bits and pieces to sift and sort themselves out. I know that throughout this 'phase' of being I need to be gentle and kind to myself and others. Breathe my way through it. I recognize the art of letting go. I would like to think that I have spent the majority of my life perfecting it.

Although there is pride in choosing yourself, your strength and solitude and being alone until it's truly 'right' - it still aches and pinches in the oddest of moments. More so when you really just want someone to curl up next to you, pull you in and breathe quietly beside you so that your mind can rest.

Today however, I want to wallow a bit. I want to lay in bed, stare at my ceiling. Think about long Sunday walks, late breakfasts, sharing the New York Times, cooking Sunday dinners. All of the happy normalcy's that make up a Sunday. Today I feel like missing that. It's not to say that at some point I won't pull myself out of bed, perhaps shower and go join the Italian Feast that some of my friends are conjuring up...I will because I will be bored with my own thoughts and that's what you do. You pull yourself up.

For the next hour or two however, I will lay here. Just like this and miss things.