Sunday

My Grandmother once said that the reason children grow up so fast is because they've lost their Sundays. Such days were reserved for rest. Now an hour is left for God's people to confess. Even then, where's the king's sofa to kick up your feet, the cat and dog at peace, sirens silent, the tyrants non-violent, and the liquor stores closed? Yet, I suppose. How would you fit a 168 hours into 6 days when there are

bills to pay,

medications to take,

rules to obey,

waste to reduce,

change to create,

women to seduce,

and feelings to sedate?


Would it be possible to take a vote and reinstate the peace, I ask her. Her response is that my suggestion was made a few hundred years too late. But God still does get an hour.

He

or

She

or

It

didn't have the power for 24, but they at least got 1.

We still have lives to choose,

showers to take,

jobs to find (and lose),

hearts to break,

booze,

and children to motivate.


But how can we teach our children when they're just that; fact-checked and free of responsibility? Are they still able to imagine childhood fantasies that adults can no longer see? Or do their parents live 28 hour long days spending fewer hours where they should be?



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