Oh, Sunday nap, how you elude me. I yearn for your soft embrace, yet you stay just out of reach. The few times that we have hooked up it has been a blissful union, and I miss those halcyon days. Those moments are burned into my mind; the soft pillow, the muted sunlight, the heaviness of limbs melting into a stretch. The feeling of oneness and contentment with the universe, of worries floating away, of guilt dissipating into the atmosphere. How I long for you, oh Sunday nap.
You appeared at my door this morning as I blearily stumbled through a pot of coffee, with a coy smile and a beckoning hand. You whispered of drowsy sweetness, of daydreams turned pleasant dreams, of a body drooping with heaviness into the sofa cushions. I reached out to you with a trembling hand, and our fingertips brushed briefly, like a soft butterfly kiss. You winked and murmured that you would be here for me, that you would wait…but only a short while.
I moved through the morning, through the early afternoon, trying to set a few things to rights so that I could settle into your arms. Occasionally I’d look over at you with yearning eyes, lounging peacefully on the couch, and quietly curse the to-do items keeping us apart. The active children, the messy kitchen, the never-ending laundry…all conspired to keep us apart. I tried, oh Sunday nap, how I tried!
And then I looked over and you were gone. The lateness of the hour told the story. You had left me, not to return for another week. Know that I love you, Sunday nap, that there is no one else for me. I will do better in seven days, I promise. Please don’t forsake me, return to my arms, bring me the sweet release I so desperately need.
I will sink into your arms next week, Sunday nap, for our long-desired union.
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Somehow, the Sunday nap seems to elude me week by week as well…I always think ‘next week’ but it never seems to happen…oh well.
Brutal! My Sunday nap is often interrupted by its nemesis, Stupid Bullshit I Don’t Care About.