Sundays used to be days of God. Now, they are days of man. They are days in which we work and don’t stop until the job gets done. Otherwise, we have to keep going until tomorrow. There’s something about this day that makes us want to curl up by the fire and drink warm cider or hot chocolate. There’s something about today that makes us want to breathe in what’s left of the fresh air and forget our troubles.
But those days are gone.
Sundays used to be the day when nothing was open. Do you remember that? It was like a public holiday every weekend, where nobody even laid a finger on their car keys. No one could get the groceries or go to the bank to pay the bills. Everyone stayed home or went to church to enjoy the life around them. Now we live sheltered lives of phones and computers, sitting hunched over at our desks with the radiation seeping from beneath our screens and into our morning coffee.
Yes, there was a time when Sundays were “me” days. When nothing was done for others but only for ourselves. Now it’s one more day ticked off our to-do lists as we waddle down the street to our least favourite offices, restaurants or studios.
My mom took off every Sunday from her waitressing job for almost 8 years. There was nothing keeping her from her day of relaxation. Her day of reading, blankets and family. There was just nothing quite like having the whole family home on a Sunday afternoon. When we would all fight about what movies to watch or who would go and make the mid-day snack for the third time.
Those were good days. Now, I work on Sundays.
But there is still something about them that makes me feel good. It makes me feel warm and welcomed. There’s just something about a Sunday that makes it all worth wild.