for sundays.

sunday is  for starting the day with someone reaching for you. for raspberry toast and pale pink toenail polish. for hamburgers with onions and pickles after six days of soup and ritz crackers. for ignoring emails, except those from your sister. for sing alongs and hide-and-seek, for painting on the living room floor. for the girl who says, "more pink, rhi. make a big heart and a little heart, please." for the girl dancing in a pink leotard and butterfly wings who grabbed my hand and said, "i need to sashay with you." for the man cooking chicken parmigiana in the kitchen. the man who got me advil at 3:00 in the morning when i could no longer sleep because everything hurt. for dinners and stories shared at our kitchen table. for the conversations had on the side of our bathtub. for our and us. for our big backyard that screams life. for the girl who screams life and curiosity and love. for the days i feel like that girl, when i get out of my own way. for sitting on the front porch and putting feet in the grass. for quiet streets and sidewalk chalk. for green eggs and ham and how wonderful it is to do the voices, really do them. for the difference made when we choose to participate and not just show up. for being forced to be still with a dog who won't leave your side. because he knows you need it. for open windows and open doors and fresh air. for fresh thoughts after weeks of nothing new. for going back to new words from anne lamott you found on a particularly hard monday. for love. and the truth that it starts inside, even if we have to crawl there.