On my perfect Sunday, I wake up and look at you my perfect partner, lying dozing beside me as morning grows closer. As I see you awake, I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep. I hear you stir, feel your eyes upon me as yours gaze at me, as I just observed you only moments before. Then I feel the slight stir of sheets as you get up, away to make me breakfast in bed as you always do on a Sunday.
I inwardly giggle to myself at the last time we had the conversation about how I always wake before you, except on a Sunday, always on a Sunday, when its breakfast in bed day. I secretly know that you know I’m awake, but you don’t mind treating me this one day a week.
We always fill our days with something different on a Sunday. We both don’t work today for one, and we have the whole day to ourselves. An opportunity, that only comes one in seven days, to indulge ourselves in a perfect day.
Today where at the beach. I also love the beach days as much as I know you do. This time we have travelled a little further up the coast to a location we had only just found after some friends told us of what a beautiful spot it was.
They hadn’t been wrong either. We sit together on the beach, almost alone it feels. Looking to the left and right down the long stretch of golden looking sand there are only a few figures, almost lost to the eye there distance is so great.
I hug you holding you tight. We have been silent for a while, but this is alright. I feel how close you are to me, lost in the beauty of the open sea, the warm sand around us, and how it felt like another perfect Sunday.
We spend a great many more minutes just holding each other close, looking out into the sea and the far stretching distance of the blue. A dog barking suddenly breaks our long meditation of silent thought. I look down the beach and see a family playing. This must of just arrived recently. Already holes are being dug, sandcastles erected, mum trying to catch the running children to smear on suntan cream.
I look back towards you and see you looking back at me. I embrace you and we lock ourselves together for a long moment, a moment I wished would never end. ‘Lets get lunch’ I suggest to you. You nod in agreement and we rise up from the sand and begin to walk back to our car, chatting together and holding hands.
Were in a restaurant now. It’s evening time. On the drive back home we decided to skip our lunch in favour of an early dinner. I’m on a diet after all. I’m not sure how you do though , as I’ve seen you eat like a horse and yet you always look so perfect. I tell you all the time too, and I love to see you smile when I compliment you. You always tell me not to say such things, as it embarrasses you and I know how shy you are. But secretly, I know you like it.
We order the usual we always do from the menu. This is one of our favourite restaurants. I suspect the waiter could ask us if we wanted the usual, but they never do. I know that you could order for me, or me order for you. But we never do.
We eat our food, and we laugh and giggle, talking about our memories, our futures, our hurts and our joys. Sharing ourselves as we have done all day. It makes me happy as I notice your already deciding what looks best for the deserts.
I remember the first time I was with you, it was a Sunday. I took you to this place on our first date. You were so beautiful and I was so nervous. When you hardly ate anything my heart sank and I thought you hated this place, maybe even me. To find out you were just nervous too., that you found it uneasy to eat while in front of strangers. It seems so silly a thought now I guess, as I watch you decide on desert.
This moment here reminds me, our Sunday’s should be perfect, just like it was on our very first Sunday.
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