Warning alert corny content ahead:

This Sunday I  play music and dance with my cat. I let the music move me and fill me up,

A Sunday kind of love looks different to everyone.

I am too old for anything other than a Sunday love one that is lasting and as Etta sings” on the square”.

Right now my Sunday love consists of brunch with my girlfriends and messages from friends and if I’m lucky a walk with my neighbor.

This is a sweet kind of love and I cherish friendship yet, still my heart remains open.

While strolling the bookstore I keep my head high making eye contact. The things I enjoy on Sunday are things I want to do with my Sunday kind of love. You know the banana pancakes and coffee Sunday routine?

Sundays can be delicious and they can be sad. Watching lovers old and new can make your heartache and yearn for a special someone. This especially true as the days grow short and cold.

Have you ever watched an older couple engage with sweet banter and respect as they negotiate produce in the grocery isle?  This is the love that sends my heart pitter pattering.

A love that shines your shoes and leaves a sweet is a tender delight. Yeah, I know this kind of love exists.

The love that kisses your nose and your forehead and wipes the tears before they even begin to fall. Oh, this is the sacred kind.

So I dream with Etta James playing. I pour more coffee and lean into the music and let it crack me open just a little more. This Sunday is soon coming to an end and still my heartaches. I have been sleeping on the right side of the bed for way too long! I won’t give in or settle because I deserve a Sunday kind of Love.

My love wherever you are this Sunday darling I am home.