Dear Sunday

Dear Sunday,

I enjoy, I truly do. When I think of you, I think of waking up and smelling food already cooking (I love you Ma! You too Daddy!). We eat, and everyone gets ready for church. We sing, we praise, we shake Pastor Gray's hand as we walk out. Then it's cooking out, running around with the family friends, and just generally having a wonderful, lazy time.

But now when I look around me, I realize that Sunday means doing all the work that I have put off for the week. Cleaning, laundry, research for class, and nursing the hangover from last night. Welcome to adulthood, Kait! Or maybe, welcome to college.

I always thought I would be older before I started wishing for the good times of my childhood. Apparently this is not the case. I miss the small town part of my life. Maybe that's what it is.

Living in a city is so...impersonal. I believe that is the word I am looking for. You can pass by people and not know who they are. They don't know that you once released 500 crickets into your high school, that you and your boyfriend broke up in a screaming match in front of the local Speedway. Have you ever seen a small town newspaper, the ones that publish all the tickets that were given out, and show, for all to see, the list of people who went to jail this weekend? I love reading those. And then there's the embarrassment when you realize that your name is down for going 25 miles over the speedlimit.

Another thing small towns have going for them is that the residents look out for one another. When I was younger my mom would let me walk to the local grocery store for a loaf of bread or some other thing she needed. And there were so many times that she was called by someone to tell her where I was.

Wow. The memories that a single day can bring up. I guess this post has shown me I will always be the small town girl, no matter where I am. Thank you, Sunday, for showing this to me.

Love Always,
Kait