Sunday, April 6, 2008

Sunshine Day

I have hated Sundays most of my life. It's never been a day of rest but the day I spend fretting about chores, grocery shopping, laundry, house cleaning, the impending arrival of Monday and the week that looms ahead.

Duncan, however, sees Sunday as the day we get up early and go to the park to throw the ball and chase the little birds that dart through the low bushes. Sunday is the day he's ready to go from the moment he senses a change in my breathing and my eyes creak open. And because I'm a good papa, I don't even turn the tea kettle on before I throw on some jeans and a hoodie and head out the door with him. Sunday is the day when I know Duncan would whistle if he could, a happy tune, like "Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah", or perhaps, "Sunshine Day" by The Brady Bunch. He'd drag me down the sidewalk and across the street, his head up, cheeks full of air and his lips pursed together. Sunday is the finest day of the week to be a Duncan and for awhile, before the list of things to be done starts to accumulate in my head, I get to share in it.

And even if he can't whistle I'm good enough at it for the both of us, and besides, there's always a ball to chase and grass and sunshine to roll in. And quite often, like this morning I throw myself down right next to him and enjoy the morning as every morning should be enjoyed.



1 comment:

Lori said...

"Sunday is the finest day of the week to be a Duncan..."
Love it. I want to be a Duncan. And as long as you get to be one once in a while, you'll always have joy and hope.