They never fought on Sunday.
Sunday seemed to be that day when everything was calm,
almost as if the reset button was pressed.
The beginning of the week, a chance to start a new,
Whispers of new commitments,
promises both spoken and unspoken.
The day always started with family prayer and Sunday School
It was almost as if everything was clean and all the bad
Memories of the past week were forgotten
a chance to write a different story, this time with a
happy ending
They never fought on Sunday
Picnic in the park, lunch provided by mommy, fried chicken sandwiches,
Maybe some fruit topped off with the sweetest ice tea ever.
No worries, no fighting.
Freedom to play and explore
Scampering through the woods and trying to
Find our way back.
An exercise in memory, a certain tree, a certain path that looked
A certain way, I remember passing that rock, she remembers
The flowers. Staying close to my big sister, my sister that always
Took care of me. Never had to worry about being lost
She always knew the way.
Things felt almost normal (at least the normal
I had often heard about and sometimes read about)
I often wonder if they even liked each other. I always
Thought of them separately as Mommy and then Daddy
Never Mommy & Daddy as a couple. I never saw them
Sit and talk. There was never everyday chit chat. There
Was only arguing or silence. Things never felt easy –
A certain tension always existed except on Sundays
They never fought on Sunday
Somehow you survive. You manage to carve out
Your space and fill it with whatever dreams you can
Conjure up. I always knew that Sunday couldn’t last
Forever and as I shut my eyes at night, only after saying
My prayers, I knew my next waking moment would be Monday
And the fighting would start again. They never seemed to
Disappoint me although I always prayed that they would
But I could make it through the week
Knowing that Sunday was coming…..secure in
The thought that
They never fought on Sunday
2 Responses
I loved this short story! There’s something special about the title of your story that repeated itself throughout, bringing focus to a personal respect your parents shared for what Sunday represented to both of them! Thank God for the weekly reprieve & special memories He gave you because, “They never fought on Sundays.”:-)
Beautiful. Because I’ve known u practically my whole life, so many of your stories, take me immediately back to another time and place. Immediately. I am 62 years old now (LOL🤣) and I do forget a little more than I used to. But because of your writing, for better or for worse,I’ll never forget my Brooklyn childhood.