Sunday Afternoon

It is Sunday afternoon and I get off my butt and start to clean the kitchen. I start to wipe down the cabinets and then I realize how dirty they are. I move over to the shelves and start to clean and toss. Organize all the junk I want to keep and toss the junk I don't want. Gone are the two dead plants and their planters. Kept are the two pencil sharpeners the kids use. As the order takes shape I feel a sense of contentment, a sense of happiness wash over me. As much as a relief it is, it is not a huge surprise for it is Sunday afternoon.

For as long as I remember working, going back to January 1989, my sense of peace came on late Sunday afternoons. Not every Sunday or even most but enough. And it would be the most peaceful time I would have all week. I don't know why this is, perhaps it just takes me a long time to unwind from work. Since I've been in Beijing a lot of my Saturdays are spent recovering from Friday night or with need to relax without actually relaxing. On this Sunday I move my cleaning upstairs while my 10 year old daughter sketches on the kitchen table oblivious to my joy.

My 12 year old son arrives home an hour later after spending the day with his aging waterboarding mom. There is excitement in the house as all the kids are together and we head out to dinner.

Dinner was a treat and a joy. My seven year old daughter, the youngest, ducking under the table to surprise me. All chatty but not wild. Well behaved and playful and eating good. On the way home my seven year old asks why we are “jumping” hand and hand and I tell her we are not jumping. We are skipping.