It’s that first Sunday.
You know, the one that smells like spring is in the air. And when you come home from church, you put on a t-shirt and flip-flops, even if it’s not quite that warm, because. Because you can. And then you open all of the windows and watch kids play outside in the sunshine. When dinner’s cleaned up, you walk to the park, because that’s what you do in the summer on a Sunday afternoon. Then you fall asleep to the breeze blowing through your open window, and the whoosh of cars driving by — the sounds of a summer nap, because the windows are open. And when you step outside, the evening is balmy, and the smell of hamburgers wafts on the breeze: someone has officially ended winter with a barbecue.
I love this first summery Sunday. Love it.
…I’m just not used to it being before Valentine’s Day.