I'm home today. You used to mean lazy day for the family. Back when dad was alive, I would wake up 10 in the morning and my dad would be cleaning his car already. The garage is all wet from the car wash and from watering his plants. I would smell the aroma of coffee, and the newspaper looks like it was already read 5 times cover to cover.
You're a special day because no one's in a hurry. My workaholic dad is home and not in a hurry to go to the hospital. Though it's your day, he'd still do his rounds and see if his patients are doing okay. Parking lot of the hospital is not even half-full as every doctor I know are with their family having family day. While we, the family, are waiting for my dad to finish his rounds or sometimes, chemotherapy. After which, we'd hear mass then to the mall, to watch a movie, do some grocery-shopping, or to just hang-out. And before we head home, we'd pass by the hospital again because my dad would say he forgot to do something or that one of his patients needs his attending. This was our idea of a family day: my dad's still working, but the family hops along his trip, and everyone else's errands are just secondary to his. Of course we were always grumpy about this, but in the end we were always happy to convince him to go to the mall with us.
Nowadays, you've become a little different for us. It's no longer a lazy day for us. Everyone is up by 8am, having breakfast, reading up for school, tidying the house, and getting ready for noon mass. I still smell the aroma of coffee, my mom never fails to brew for the both of us in the morning (she used to brew for herself and my dad). There's still newspaper, well, only if my brother's not lazy enough to buy one. There's not much routine anymore, every Sunday's pretty much different from another Sunday. By late afternoon or early evening, I'm already headed to Manila for school the next day.
The next day, I wake up, it's school again. My mom's not around, I don't hear the noise of the television anymore, but just the quiet morning slowly becoming noisy as the day sets in with the rest of the class. It's Monday. Nothing to hate about Monday, but she's just really different from you.
Monday's lovely, but sometimes I wish I could have more than 24 hours in your day. Can I have 7 Sundays a week? Wouldn't that be perfect? :)
Karen
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