Sunday

     It's Sunday.  Again.  Sunday used to be the best day.  Sleeping late until eight (when you have to normally get up at 5:30, eight is late!).  Waking up next to the man of your dreams, your love, your whole life.  Having a leisurly breakfast.  Reading the paper.  Talking about anything.  Or nothing.  Relaxing.  Watching dumb science fiction movies.  Or football.  Taking a nap.  Tossing the ball with the kid.  Playing ping pong.
     Now, its waking up at three or four in the morning.  If it's a good night, sometimes as late as five a.m.  The TV is already on.  It's on all night because I can't stand the dark anymore.  Looking at the empty other half of the bed.  Saying good morning to empty pillows and an urn on the nightstand.  And then the clock watching begins.  Let's see, on that Sunday, we were...  At ten, the world started falling apart. And so on and so on and so on.
     I hope and pray Sundays will someday become "normal" again, whatever that means.  Where I don't watch the clock with anger and sadness.  Jerry loved our family Sundays.  And to honor him, I will too.  Someday.