There is a special rhythm to Sunday that makes it my favorite day of the week. It feels like both the beginning and the conclusion of something, and I like that.
I like it most when it rains and I wake up early, knowing that I don't have to climb out of bed immediately. I like the lingering and the mind-wandering and the tangled mess of bedhead that gets twisted up into an equally as tangled knot rather than hastily brushed out or smoothed down like on a Monday.
My heart is especially dreamy on Sundays. Sunday is when I think about fat baby tummies and opening a tiny tea/book/flower shop in a sleepy town and riding on top of a camel with nothing but a camera in my hands.
The best Sundays are simple, sweet, and slow. They remind me that the world will keep spinning even when--especially when--I stop. That being thoughtful and intentional with my time bodes well for clarity in my body and mind.
Sunday is for loving and for living. Sunday is for figuring out how to live to love and how to love to live, everyday.