Sunday

Sunday used to be my favorite day of the week when I was younger, it meant family. I would wake up excited because every Sunday we would go up to my grandmother’s house for dinner. The homemade meals would always vary, from taco salad to breakfast for dinner, I was always looking forward to see what we would have. While waiting for dinner, my cousins and I would have the times of our lives doing whatever we pleased. With the whole road being my family we were able to roam where we wanted, but making sure no one got hurt or died. Many of the times we would go exploring through the acres of woods behind the house for hours. We’d play hide and seek or “try and find a deer mark,” anything to entertain ourselves. There were a few occasions where we got lost for a couple hours, only being 11 years old and the oldest out there I would get nervous, but we always found our way back to the house by following the creek.

I would love nothing more to be able to relive my childhood Sundays. Now, Sunday means work. Today, I spent a dreadful five hours at work with nothing to do. I work at Lakeside, a restaurant owned by the Lanzi brothers. Since it is not summer or winter the lake is dead and business is terrible. My three co-workers and I stood there for hours waiting for people to come in and eat. We had one table. I’m glad I get seven dollars an hour to stand there and dance to music and drink endless cups of hot cocoa, but I would much rather be spending my day with my family that I rarely get time with now.