And most of all, I want to do nothing with you. I want to spend a Sunday at home, me in my corner, you in yours, reading or working or writing, silently in our spaces. I want to be so together that we don’t have to say anything at all, that we can just watch it rain and drink our tea and occasionally look at one another and smile. I will wonder why I ever thought that Sunday was for running errands and cleaning and getting things done one after the other, when it is so clear that spending them silently across from you is so much better.
I want to have every bit of Sunday with you, every Sunday, because you are simply too good to end on a Saturday night.