It’s Sunday morning.
I love Sunday mornings. Call me old fashioned, but, to me, Sunday morning means time with my family, time with my faith at Church and simple pleasures like a cappuccino at the local Italian Bakery, or time to do some writing, like what you are reading right now.
Growing up, Sunday mornings meant that the house was filled with the smell of simmering sugo on the stove as my mother prepared the one meal of the week that was sacred: Sunday lunch. Attendance was, if not quite mandatory, definitely expected.
Like most kids, I didn’t really appreciate the importance of those meals at the time. Nevertheless, they seem to have done their part in making me what I am today.
I sincerely hope you can enjoy your Sunday.