Sunday Afternoon

I’m not sure why, but there is something incredibly perfect about a Sunday afternoon. It’s my favorite time of the week. Always has been.

Sitting at the dining room table with a cup of coffee, a bagel with schmear, and my journal or a letter to a friend. Music soothing the air in the small apartment I share with my friend, Jen. Our cats chasing each other back and forth across the living room and testing our patience with the no-countertop rules. Outside the window, the snow is trying to so hard to come down to earth. Tiny flurries you can hardly see – the brave snowflakes that ventured out alone – not willing to wait for the masses to fall in a blizzard that will blanket the city in silence. These snowflakes drift aimlessly down to earth, taking their time, enjoying the journey. Then facing the buffeting wind that seems to foil their plans and practically lifts them back up to the heavens from which they escaped. It’s a perfect snow. A perfect day. A Sunday afternoon.