Sunday Afternoon: Dwindles to a wisp

fading-light-portrait-eye

When I was young, and for a long time afterward, Sunday afternoons were melancholy. I used to blame it on memories on my father retiring alone to his study to listen to classical music. I didn’t like classical music. It made me uneasy…I didn’t like the closed door.

But I think something else was going on. The span of a week is a reminder of the finite, even to the young. And powerful Sunday, which starts out fat and lazy, stretching endlessly ahead, dwindles to a wisp, and just like that, it’s over.

~ Abigail Thomas, Thinking About Memoir


Notes:

Comments

  1. So true, I love my Sunday’s and they do dwindle to a wisp and end….

    Liked by 1 person

  2. or you could see it as a beginning, a doorway to what’s coming next –

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I agree with ksbeth, I see Sunday’s as a beginning.

    Liked by 1 person

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