A Sunday Afternoon

Today Gloria and I went out with "Auntie Liz" to Costco, one of our favorite places to wander. Gloria got to share a very berry sundae and I got to try a sample of banana peanut butter (yum!). Last night was a difficult night because I kept dreaming about trying to call Kevin on his cell phone and not being able to get through. It is, of course, an awful feeling to begin with but it also calls up the dreadful memories of that awful day. Isn't it interesting how we can't escape our own minds? I ended up waking around 6:00 am and journaling to get my mind to slow down a little and get some more rest. I guess it is the best that I can do sometimes.

I am working on a new scrapbook about my little Gloria's funny faces. Hopefully it will be done by her first birthday party. I love to scrapbook because it allows me to tell more of a story than a regular photo album. I am the kind of person who has a hard time throwing things away. I feel inordinately attached to objects like ticket stubs, receipts and labels. So, a scrapbook makes it seem less like garbage and clutter, and more like legitimate "stuff."

I think what I love most about Sunday's is that they have an air of rest about them. Even if I have a day planned for Sunday, I always feel like I can move at a slower pace. Maybe it is because most Sundays start with church, which slows me down and re-centers me. Perhaps it is just because Saturdays tend to be hectic and filled with errands. I don't know! Kevin and I spent many Sunday afternoons making waffles, watching Lifetime movies and doing the laundry. We would go for long walks or drives and just talk about the week before or the week to come. I think that is the hardest part about not having Kevin. I miss just being near him and spending that "empty" time. He loved going to church because it meant we would make a nice breakfast together when we came home. Whenever I am in church I can almost feel him beside me, holding my hand or having our knees touch. It is a strange thing to be without him, and it doesn't seem to get any less strange.