Sundays: A collection of thoughts
Beneath the chill of New Hampshire skies,
A Sunday stretches out before my eyes,
A day of peace, a day of rest,
A time to leave my worries at my chest.
The world is hushed, the air is still,
The leaves are crisp beneath my feet,
The mountains rise, a natural thrill,
This is the place where I am complete.
The sun is low, a golden glow,
As it dips below the distant trees,
A sense of calm, a feeling slow,
This is where I find my ease.
No hurry here, no rush to be,
Just time to breathe and time to see,
The beauty of this world, so grand,
On a chilly New Hampshire Sunday, so serene, so tranquil, so grand.
The worries fade, the stress subsides,
As I take in the natural pride,
Of this land, so wild, so free,
On a chilly New Hampshire Sunday, where I am finally worry and hurry free.
There is something in my mind, it’s primal, it's innate, it’s an unforgiving piece of me, that genuinely cherishes and understands the hurry-free, worry-free Sundays of my life.
“See the sun set, the day is ending. Let that yawn out, there’s no pretending” — BB’s Theme, Death Stranding
Since moving to New Hampshire for boarding school, I have been molding into a weekly routine. The days are long, but the weeks are short. Saturday nights and Sundays are days when I can finally destress and take a sigh of relief.
Sunday is when I go out on trails, it is when I would work on my hobbies, its when I feel the happiest. Yet when there is no end in sight, the night takes Sunday away and leaves me with Monday. My simple mortal desires leave me with no choice other than to walk through the depths of another week.
Learning about my family's past, their pains and sorrows through the Cultural Revolution, Famines, Civil Wars, and all within the past century. We have gone far, yet why am I the one who gets to take a break?
According to my mother, I don’t take a lot of breaks, I simply immerse myself in hobbies, working for hours and hours instead of relaxing. I take my time rather seriously, but it seems I have adapted to work.
Work is a physical and mental concept few understand yet many loathe, it is a part of our very meaning of existence.
Sundays put the world into perspective for our mortal selves, it allows us to conjugate the thoughts of the week and relax for once. As only for the day one is allowed to stop moving forward.
I strive to humbly accept work as a usual hustle, the products of which somehow contribute to my work in society and my position in life. A Sunday resets my mind, trains it, and allows it to grow. When you make that sigh of relief on your Sunday mornings, when your alarm clock is finally silent when your work stops, what does that make you feel?
Thanks for reading.
