Lazy Sunday

Today was a Sunday. A productive, lazy Sunday. I baked bread, I dusted and put away my laundry, I vacuumed and cleaned my bathroom, and then I made myself a huge pot of pasta with ground pork, yellow zucchini, and red peppers. There's enough to last me a week.

But in the middle of all of that I sat down on my couch for just a minute and just enjoyed the laziness that is inherent to a Sunday.

The sun was streaming in through the balcony door, the fan was hitting me just right, something random on the tv, and I felt at peace. And I was reminded of another day that felt exactly the same.

It was a day in the last year or so that my ex and I were living together. I could tell you the exact day if I went into my old LJ account, but it's so full of my babbling about him that I don't bother anymore.

We were lying on our couch (we had an L-shaped sectional) and the fan was blowing on us, first him, then on me, then on him again. His arm was reached back to me, lying across my shoulder, and his fingers just grazed side of my breast, back and forth, up and down. And we just were. I was at peace.

And I found myself getting nostalgic. Not for him, per se. Just for the sense of belonging. For being part of something bigger than just me. For about 30 seconds. Because while, at the time, it was happiest I'd been and I felt the greatest I'd felt in forever, I remembered the rest of our time together. Remembered how sad I always was in that house, fan or no fan.

And now that I'm out of that suffocating cocoon, I can see that I have people to hold me, people to love me, and even people to "just be" with.

So even when I'm all alone, lying on my couch I know I'm not actually all alone. And that's the greatest feeling in the world.
Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network