Never Never on a Sunday

Well, Sundays for me have always sported the blank look. Not bland though. Blank. Sundays have been about the beauty of immense space. No inked in plans to distort the white-ness and nothing-ness of it. That’s what I crave for, a let’s-please-do-nothing-today day…for one full day and one full night and then one more full day. And then, maybe, I will all set to face the chores of life again. Wow, what a dream!

And yes, the selfish me wants the entire day to be just for me…no impending guests, no we-haven’t-met-in-a-long-time-so-let’s-catch-up meetings, nobody else….except maybe you. And that’s when I realize how you actually have ceased to exist outside of me and have creeped in, slowly but surely, through the pores and maybe the air that I breathe in and also the moisturizing lotion that I vigorously apply (pores again). And you know what, having you inside of me is a nice, wholesome feeling. I feel full. And like he said in that ultimate love movie…you complete me.

And what will I do with such a wondrous day, if I do get it, well, I don’t know, isn’t that the whole point? Even the question posed here is anathema on a day like this…there will be no what next or what now or even the pondering, planning ummms allowed to trespass on my ideal Sunday. It will be virgin (well, almost) and it will amount to nothing in the final scheme of things. But in my balance sheet of life, it will show up there along with those fixed, immovable, non-liquidifiable assets. Naaah….it will be worth more…way more. It will be the ideal. It will signify us…and the love we share and non-purposeful-ness of it.