We revived an old family tradition today. We drove to the beach with the pups, our Sunday meander, and walked for about a mile. We'd've gone further, because that was barely a stretch, but we'd left it too late, and it started getting dark. Next time we'll be sure to leave earlier. And then we drove home the long, twisty way, through the sunset and tall hedges, with the old pup damp and snoring on my feet. It felt really nice, old and comfy and quiet. Actually, it reminded me of a book I'd read when I was tiny, about an Inuit girl going to boarding school, and being driven home through the midnight tundra.
That's what Sunday means to me. Not church or anything. Family. Having time to be family. I like it.
That's what Sunday means to me. Not church or anything. Family. Having time to be family. I like it.
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