Saturday is for fears and secrets and confessions and remembrances; Sunday is for logistics, the daily mapmaking that keeps life together inching along. p 479
Saturday is for working.
Saturday is for running errands and taking the trash to the dump.
Saturday is the end of the work week and the beginning of an abbreviated weekend.
Saturday evening is for watching movies and holding hands and letting the troubles of the past five days fall away.
Saturday is for whispering in bed.
Saturday is for the anticipation of a day off.
Saturday is for falling asleep exhausted, but happy that the week is finally over.
This past Saturday was for picture taking and eating cake and watching the bride and groom start their new life together.
Sunday is for sleeping in as late as the dogs will allow.
Sunday is for lazily reading in bed as the sun starts to climb in the sky.
Sunday is for brown butter granola scones.
Sunday is for wearing loose clothes that don’t match in any sense of the word.
Sunday is for planning menus and making a shopping list.
Sunday is for sitting down at the table for a real dinner.
Sunday is for remembering how this day used to be back when you were small and going to your grandmother’s was the rule, not the exception.
Sundays used to be about sitting round the dining room table with your uncles eating soup.
After dinner Sundays used to be for eating ice cream and playing board games.
Now Sundays involve the three of us trying to make progress on the Getting Ready for College list.
Next Sunday is for throwing a party.
Next Sunday is for friends and good food, s’more ice cream and saying good-bye.
Who knows what the Sunday after that will bring?
Sundays are for whatever you want to do.
Sundays are for brown butter granola scones and maybe gelato.