The Sunday Night Routine

trE

NaPoWriMo #21

I melt into myself from
a lazy day that mainly
incorporates working out,
reading, writing, cooking,
staying sane, and trying not
to spiral.

I morph into my grandmother,
who is almost 90 years old.
She is a worrier who doesn’t
understand the word “No.”
I overthink. I overanalyze.
I overcompensate for things
I should have acknowledged
from my past.

The dog is clingier than normal.
I think she believes I will
disappear without a moment’s
notice.
The TV is background noise.
It assists and acts as my
co-writer and co-creator.

I miss out on sleep waiting for
the “I’m home” message from
the crush.
She’s a night owl who walks
home from her second job,
which tears my nerves all
the way up, but I applaud extra
efforts in the pursuit of
monetary excellence.

I say several prayers that
usually involve me questioning
what God has in store for
my impending future, and
I plop my exhausted body
down on the pillow top with
the enhanced cooling foam
mattress topper, and sink into
a deep sleep.

I wake up in the middle
of the night to relieve
myself, but I don’t want
Sunday to end.
Soon after, it does. And I
am left longing for its
presence, hoping the next
five days will hurry up.

I miss Friday already.

Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?

I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with my place of employment as it pertains to racism and discrimination. I welcome your visit.

13 thoughts on “The Sunday Night Routine”

Comments are closed.