the good kind

Sunday felt like what life should be like, a long, late super with friends. Me, cooking, chopping, slicing, splashing, stirring. There is something about the feel of cutting through an onion that makes me a little more centered. And the use of flavors I've never had in my kitchen pleased my soul as much as my tongue. And of course the, "This is really good," fills some need in me that I can't put my finger on other than I should be domesticated to the fullest extent, and yet.

Then dinner spilled into the cool October air on the outside steps under old, old trees with a sweatshirt around my shoulders and the end of Sunday hovered. We stood there, talking and not wanting the anguish of Monday to appear. We were wanting the laziness and ease of Sunday to permeate the next day and the next. And yet we know that can't happen. Still, I need to hold on to the days like this, the unexpected ones where nothing really happens and yet it was so nice to intensely debate politics and still respect each other views and eat brownies and share stories where vulnerabilities are exposed and other ones where laughing occurs. This simple kind of time spent, it's the good kind.

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