I love Sundays in the summer. They're drastically different than Sundays in the fall, winter, or spring. During the school year they come with this sad, gone sense of foreboding- the weekend is over and Monday is almost here. But in the summertime they are blissfully sweet and lazy and are the one day out of the week where I don't feel guilty about not being out there doing something. It's my day to wander, to read, to write, to eat by myself in the park and not feel lonely. There is something comforting about a Sunday in the summer, no sense of foreboding, not when my work week starts on a Tuesday, but instead a delight in a day given to pauses and breaks. After a late lunch in the park, I took my sundress self, sandaled feet, straw hat and all uptown to Redeemer College to hear Tim Keller preach and I realized how much I had been needing a Sunday. A true Sunday. The last one was filled with rain, crowded subways and a night dedicated to the Tony's, but today was good. It made me glad that Sunday was the start of my week- it's given me a sense of excitement. Like anything can happen this week. Or nothing at all, and it will still be wonderful. I finished the night at S's watching Dear John and wondering at how Nicholas Sparks can make girls melt like that. Then a surprise phone call from V, a dialed one to W, and a short trip back, I now sit in my room swearing I will never take air conditioning for granted again.
There's a half moon tonight, hanging heavy and lonesome against skyscrapers cutting into the night but there are people on every street corner- their lives spinning out beneath neon signs- and I have a good feeling about this week.
-Mandy
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