Sunday

Sundays are hard days when you are single, aren't they?

Sundays are family days. They are days that you spend preparing for the week. Cleaning up the house. Relaxing, before Monday comes.

My ex's family had "Sunday Dinner" every week. On Sunday, at lunchtime, his mother cooked a meal. A big one. Sometimes a turkey, sometimes a roast, sometimes some chickens. With all of the fixings. And everyone came for dinner.

My ex comes from a big family. There are five kids, and he is the youngest. All boys. Some live  in this province, others live away.

On Sundays, whoever was in town, came for dinner. Sometimes that means that there were eight of us, sometimes that meant that there were twelve of us. Sometimes, if aunts and uncles were visiting, there might have been more.

I loved it.

I loved the bustle of the dinner table. Of everyone talking. Of the brothers bickering, and the children refusing to eat this or that (and Nanny giving them whatever they wanted instead). I loved the smell of the house each Sunday when we arrived. And avoiding the dishes after the meal. And laughing with the family. Even if my ex had something else to do on a Sunday, I went to his parents house. It didn't matter to me. I was a part of the family. I didn't miss a Sunday.

A lot of the time the things that I miss the most about my relationship, are things like this. The family that I lost. The future that my kids were going to have, with that family.

Sundays are strange now. I always feel like I should be doing something. Like I should be going somewhere. Sunday is a hard day to be single.

What do you do on Sunday?