"Sunday"

Sundays always held a special place to me

It was when we sat down with family--

godparents, aunts, uncles, cousins--

we all gathered together at the table.

Hearing stories of the week

what we all did at work, school, or when's the big game

Sundays I loved because it wasn't just the stories

it was the food

the spicy scent of garlic sautéing

oil crackling under the intense heat

of conversations between

the layers of breaded chicken cutlets

the warm, doughy smell of biscuits in the oven

the sweet relish in the potato salad

My godmother always made her soup from scratch

the noodles for it cut like perfect diamonds

we ate like kings

Our bellies full, we took off

my brother and I

played freeze tag

on dead end streets

but high off imagination

It didn't matter our Sunday best was soiled

we were young

we were free

in heart and spirit

we relished in it

all afternoon

asleep on the brown, soft, worn out couch.