• [And Sundays shall be Rest]
    Sunday Afternoons were always so much simpler. No one was yelling and everyone was at peace. The air was lent to laughter and everyone was enjoying the little things in life. We were just watching the sun go down, all gathered on the porch eating seeds or just speaking of old memories as the stars appeared, lighting up the friendly shadows. Family was real at those times, when peace was actually in our home, so few times did we see it. The notions of love and life were clear then and even though we dreaded the lurking morning of fights, we enjoyed silence...because in silence there are only memories and reflection, simple reflections. Nothing clouded us, nothing bothered you...you could only hear familiar hearts searching to remember. Family was real now, in the afternoons of all that had happened and just thinking in the midst of the rebirth of the day. The crickets chirping and the wind blowing through the oak trees was the music of our nights. Lavender and mint were the perfume of our temporary peace. The Snowy moon was our light. There was nothing but memories and the sounds of hearts forgetting fears, if only for a brief moment in time. Nothing could hurt us then...at least it felt that way...it was strange to us that we couldn't be quiet for even a second during the day, but now in the holds of night we couldn't speak a word to save our souls. Our sorrows were gone and erased for an hour or two when we knew that we would still have to see them...It just didn't matter then. It was as if we had fallen into the state we had all prayed for, we forgave, forgot, and we believed in all the wonders of the world...and we clung to those feelings as if we already knew that one day we would lose them forever...But those were just Sunday Afternoons.