Kathryn Nicolai

Resting, reading, baking, gardening, napping.

But sometimes it's possible to fit an extra Sunday in here and there.

Some days, my to-do list would get set aside.

It would keep for a day.

And I would declare it a Sunday.

Middle of the week?

Didn't matter.

It was just Sunday yesterday?

I didn't care.

It could be Sunday if I said so.

Like today.

There was a rumor going around that it was actually Tuesday, but I'd crossed that out on the calendar and written over it in thick green marker, Sunday.

So, clearly, the rumor mill can't be trusted.

The day had started a bit gloomy, overcast and gray.

It had rained the night before, and the sidewalks were still wet.

On Sundays, I usually have a slow start.

So I poured a cup of coffee, took a blanket from the back of the sofa, and stepped out onto the front porch.

I'd spent the previous weekend setting up the furniture out there.

wiping down the slats in the swing and chairs, sweeping out the corners and plumping up the cushions and pillows after letting them freshen in the sunshine for a few hours.

It was a bit chilly on the porch as I settled on the swing and tossed the blanket over my legs.