Sunday mornings are humbling.

Sundays feel like riding a skateboard in an open space alone. Sundays feel like the quiet of a tender puff of air that causes the first autumn leaf to fall. She’s like the eerie quiet of snowfall on Christmas Eve morning. She is a collection of my favorite poems spilled out into the world. Sundays are the happy memories of my mom playing “Suavemente” while dancing with a broom and cleaning at the crack of dawn. Sundays are so damn present. 

Today is that morning. It’s that kind of Sunday. The sounds of Ed Sheeran's "Cold Coffee" is playing quietly like it has every morning for weeks. The past few weeks have been exhausting. Not much sleep. Not much fun. Just work and school (so many papers). Today feels unlike those of the past few weeks. I'm sat with my coffee smiling at the feelings Sunday brings.

Sundays slow down time and I’m reminded of my blessings. I am so thankful for it all. Including my little space on the web (my blog which turned three on 22 September 2017). There’s nothing quieter than a Sunday morning. Even New York isn’t loud on Sunday Mornings and New York is always loud. Sundays are for the hush tunes of Ed Sheeran and a fresh bouquet of flowers. Sundays are for more coffee and catching up with bloggers and blogging. Sundays are my reset button. We all need one.

Even though I have not slept and I’m drowning in a sea of essays, I have so much to be thankful. Last Sunday, I saw Ed Sheeran. Best concert I’ve ever attended. He was worth waiting almost seven years for. I’m keeping fingers crossed for Met Life tickets.

With my sleepy eyes, I must bid you adieu. I could use a nap to the sweet acoustics of my many autumn inspired playlists on Spotify. Before I go, I must ask because I am curious about your Sundays. What does Sunday mean to you? Any memories or traditions?