Sunday

Another Sunday full of rituals. I woke up, got up, brushed my teeth and hair looking at myself in the bathroom mirror. I fussed with my hair a bit thinking of how I told my hair dresser I only wash it once a week now trying not to lather up the shampoo so much and how he commented that the texture had changed for the better. My eyebrows need tending. While relieving myself, I thought it would be nice to have something new to read. Continuing to read my copy of 1000 places to see before you die, which now sits on the bathroom counter, only reminds me that I haven't traveled enough during my brief existence on this earth. I wash my hands and then wash my face and neck with an Olay facial cloth I retrieved from under the bathroom sink. I put up my hair into a clip and find my glasses.

The Sunday paper was waiting for me on the front door step. After walking into the living room half-dressed in my white bikini underwear and tie-dye tank top, I opened the front door slightly and felt the cool morning air flow over my body. From my cracked open front door view, I can see two women at the bus stop across the street. I decide to put on shorts and retreat back to my bedroom to find them.

Once dressed, I retrieve the Sunday newspaper, close the front door and then go to back to sit on my bed and page through everything that catches my attention. In my minds eye, I can see him- he is stretched out on the left side of my bed with his ankles crossed, arms folded slightly lying on his left side, and the shine of the skin on his right shin coming from the reflection of the sun coming through the open patio door. As my eyes travel over his body looking from his feet to his face, I see he's wearing blue shorts and a white tank top and napping with a peaceful look upon his face.

I looked away from him to sort out the coupons from the rest of the newspaper and ads. I heared the slight russle of the pillow upon the bed and then the crackle of his morning voice fill my ears saying, "Hey you..."