I love Sundays (Charis speaks)

I love Sundays. Sundays are when you and I wake up late in the mornings and we stay in to talk. Spending lazy hours together, only ending when your stomach starts to groan. But today we were up early and you suggested we hit the gym. I was lazy, but I compromised and suggested the park nearby; at least I could feign an asthma attack, nausea, bad knees or all three and sit on a bench watching the yoga lady while you sweat it out.

I love Sundays. Sundays are when I take a back seat from cooking and you try out your hand at breakfast. I'll pry from the corner and shout out instructions, and you'll wave me away and say go bathe. We both know you don't have a system when you cook, but at least there is method to your madness. The food is good and ample, and we are satiated for half the day. Yes, I'll clean up after you.

I love Sundays. I enjoy reading my favourite crime novel and have a long bath, and I know somewhere in the smoky, windowless kitchen you are working up a storm. I spy on you, seeing you sweat in that oven of a kitchen. And when you bring out the food with that boyish grin, a warm glow sets over me, especially when you're wearing my girly mittens. 

Yes, I love Sundays with you :)