Three Decades of Sundays: Part 1

from what I can remember...

and from what I can piece together from home videos and photo albums,
the Sundays of my first ten years of life were quite sacred.
the day seemed to pass slowly, full of joy, intention, and gratitude. 

during this decade -
1995 - 2005
my parents welcomed me and my three sisters into their world.
our days revolved around
family traditions,
local town happenings,
and the seasons of the year.

Sundays usually began on a spiritual note, sort of.
after the mad dash and fury to get out of the house on time with four young kids,
it was time for mass at St. Pat's, 10 AM.
although, the Kelly's were stealthily cramming into the back row at 10:09.
right in the nick of time for our inevitable pew mates to be thinking that they may have escaped
the breathy stuffiness that comes with packing a church pew far beyond capacity,
with an additional six bums, jackets, and diaper bags to accompany them.
my dad would give them the faithful nod,
the "sorry, and thank you! but also, could you scoot down just a bit more? thanks, thanks"
and we'd sit and color and probably pick our noses and whisper into my moms ear,
"when is church over?" for most of the hour.
spiritual-ish.

it was always followed by donuts and coffee downstairs, and,
hill rolling.
right through the side church door,
was the most glorious hill a child could dream of rolling down.
steep, but small. high speed potential.
it was the highlight of the whole church excursion!
I'd roll, and roll, and stand up dizzied from the descent
to see all familiar, dizzied faces
of my sisters, and
of kids in my class that I might see at school tomorrow,
or kids in my neighborhood I might play with later,
and all their siblings, too.
we'd laugh, and go again,
and I'd look up to the sky and think,
I bet God is smiling down from Heaven right now.

we'd go to Roger's Bakery after for a chocolate chip muffin,
it was right around the corner.
then maybe we'd stop by nana's for a quick visit.
we'd go home,
and chicken noodle soup would cook on the stove,
while we jumped in big piles of leaves,
or built a castle with blocks,
or made up a dance to Greased Lightnin',

slow,
full of joy,
intention,
and gratitude
for another Sunday.