The Return of Sundays
Sundays are Sundays again
For years they vanished into shift work
Where each day varied
One week Sunday’s Sunday
Next week it’s a Monday
But they’ve returned
The quiet of the day
The atmosphere of closed
Even though businesses remain open now
Habit makes them feel shut and dark
It feels as though I need a roast
Wafting through the house
With carrot and potato stovetopped and steaming
And a mother puttering about
Forking a vegetable and inspecting the meat
In fact, Sundays belong in Autumn
Summer Sundays blend in the memory
Years of them being no different than a Saturday
But Fall Sundays are real Sundays
Where homework is put off for road hockey
First snows happen on those Sundays
White dust wooshing asphalt
Rippling as desert sands
In a rush up the street
Testing the manhood of us road hockey warriors
It’s on those days the roast taste best
Returning from hockey action
Coldly sweaty and red with icy wind
The aroma beckons me through the door
And the food, moist and gravy soaked, warms me
Yes, shift work pulled me from these memories
The possibility of venturing to work
On a day meant for speeding through homework
Made Sundays near fiction in my mind
And nearly in the realm of the forgotten
But it has returned to my world
And even with August’s swelter
I’m left to think about warm roast
Road hockey
And the first wisps of snow
MONDAY…
--- Play ball tonight. Do alright. Legs still feel a bit lead like… but get through ok. Could have had two homers. First one hooked a few feet foul. Second one was the second of an inning… which, in this league, is an out. Oh well, at least we win.
TUESDAY…
--- Work is work.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Half the office clears out for a few hours this afternoon. A retirement luncheon for the officer running our section. I don’t go. Never had much dealing with the officer. Fine enough guy but still, I always think that if I was the one retiring and I looked around the room of such a luncheon and thought how I never spoke to that one… and couldn’t even tell you the name of this one over there… I’d rather they not be there. That’s just people using your day to get a break from work.
--- Play the other ball league again. Mostly in the outfield and shortstop tonight and my calf holds up. But once I’m home and cooled it is tired. We lose this one… last game of the regular season.
THURSDAY…
--- Another work day. Pretty normal times.
FRIDAY…
--- Quiet evening. One thing with latent work, by the end of the week I’m mentally drained. Staring intently at fingerprints five days a week wears you down some.
SATURDAY…
--- Afternoon baseball on TV and then an evening out with Sarah for a few drinks and supper. A nice evening on a patio… should probably try doing such stuff more often.
SUNDAY…
--- Late morning I’m out weeding the yards. The sweat is pouring off me by the end of it. It’s about 40 degrees with the humidity by late afternoon and, although it was cooler than that in the morning, I was still working away in above 30 humidex values.
No comments:
Post a Comment