Twenty Eight: 3. Sunday

1999

Donuts. Ham and rolls. Cannolis. The best part of Sunday. Eating food after church is so much better than going to church. Don’t tell my mom I said so. She’ll be mad. She likes church. She likes the church people. She likes church people even when they make fun of her for being pretty and pop for being tired after working all night. She wants to be like them. She wants me to be like them, too. I like the stuff we talk about. Jesus is nice. My friends aren’t nice. But we'll all get nicer if we all keep going to church. My mom and my aunties say so. She says I can forgive them. I want my mom to be happy, so I will. I’m glad we’ll all be nicer. Being nice is good. My family is nice! But my uncles and grandma and grandpa and cousins are getting sick. Some are dying. They aren’t so nice anymore. My aunties say I won’t see them for a while. But we’ll see them soon. I sure hope so! I still get to see my aunties and my mom and my dad a lot. It’s so cool. Not every day. Sometimes every day. But not always. Always on Sunday. Everybody is so hungry. We have so much food on Sunday. Not every day. Always on Sunday. Everybody smiles on Sunday, too! Smiling is so much fun. It makes us laugh. I like laughing. My brothers like laughing, too. Sunday is the best day. I like Sunday.

2003

Shared meal. It’s what our new church calls the giant meal we all have together after church. My parents say it’s called a potluck. We bring food. They bring food. We all share. It’s really cool. I like this new church. Everyone is nice. Everyone’s family is big, too! My family is big. Everyone is homeschooled, too! My family is homeschooled. We don’t get to do a lot during the week. We don’t see a lot of people. So this shared meal is really cool. My brothers and I get to try new foods. My brothers and I get to spend time with other kids. It’s so cool! Yesterday, new friends showed us these purple and pink and green ketchup and mustards. We never get to try stuff like this at home. We got to eat left over communion bread, too. Communion bread is special, but they gave it to us. We didn’t even need to ask. Sunday is the best day. I like Sunday.

2010

Chicken and rice. My mom is slow cooking chicken and rice, again. I’m not complaining. I have an attitude about everything. Life is hard. Like, it’s always been hard. It just feels worse now. I’m emotional all of the time. I can’t sit still. I can’t think straight. Most things suck. But I’m not upset about the chicken. It’s comforting. It’s consistent. It makes me feel loved. But I can’t ever let her know how it makes me feel. Giving her attention, complimenting her, only makes her more annoying. I don’t know if I’ll ever tell her I’m thankful, but I am thankful. The only thing annoying about mom cooking us a meal is we have to go to church to get it. Church is so stressful. I’m involved. I do all the things. I’m in youth group. I help lead it sometimes. I play the piano for them. I’m a good influence. But everyone is so rude. I try and be nice, even when they make me feel bad. But they aren’t always nice back. Especially when I don’t follow rules. I rarely don’t follow rules. I hate making people upset. But I feel like the rules change all the time. When the rules aren’t changing, the comments are. People make rude comments about my mom - my family. Trouble makers. Poor. Chubby. I’m doing everything I can constantly to not be those things. I promise. I’m such a good kid. I follow all of the rules. I do odd jobs for money until I can get a real job. I eat small meals except for Sunday. It’s the only day I don’t want to feel bad. Sundays have always been so good. They’re still okay, because of my mom and her chicken and rice. Sunday it still the best day. But I don’t like Sunday, anymore.

2015

A concert. An inspirational talk. A networking opportunity making sure I can fill my schedule with meet-ups and projects if I want. Church feels like a part-time job. Sunday is a work day. It’s still fun. This is how I make new friends. This is how I get closer to god. This stops me from being overwhelmed by other stuff. It makes me control being emotional and sad better. It feels like a break from school and work and my family and other friends. It doesn’t feel like work. They tell us it isn’t work. They make it fun. I’ll take it. Sometimes we get to have lunch together after church or dinner together before church. It depends on when I’m not serving and actually attending. They have times to visit all day at different locations. I can’t stop serving or not attend. I’ll lose friends. It’ll be too easy to get distracted from god and the work we’re doing. So meals are cool, but they’re not important anymore. It’s okay, because my church friends will share a meal some other time. As long as we serve together whenever we can and serve in the same groups, everything is fine. This feels safe. This feels comfortable. This feels good. Sunday is still the best day. But I don’t like Sunday, anymore.

2018

Brunch. It’s what everyone my age calls this meal we share whenever we wake up on Sunday. Some of us feel great and roll straight out of bed. They already live a full day before we eat and drink together. So strong. Some of us feel awful and, like, four people need to carry their lifeless body out of bed. One person grabs a limb, each. A fifth person is responsible for giving them sunglasses and pain killers. Cheers. We all make it to the cafe or restaurant or bar or wherever. Sometimes it’s one of our living room floors. The person with a credit card or the most money in their checking account covers the bill. Most of us remember to pay them back by days end. Saturdays are wild. For all of us. Some of us worked all night. Some of us drank all night. Some of us slept all night. Each of our lives are so different. We share these stories together. We laugh. We cry. We pick on the people who can’t feel a thing. Numb. Most of us didn’t go to a big church this morning because this is our church. Those of us who did make it to church left early, just for this. We don’t know how long this will last. We live every day by the minute. Every single one of us. We have no clue what’s coming next. But we love each other a lot. We love each other well. Some of us skip church. None of us skip brunch. Sunday is still the best day. I like Sunday, again.

2023

Mimosas. Biscuits and Gravy. 20% tips. The best part of Sundays. Eating food after church is so much better than going to church. Brunch makes Sunday so much better. It reminds me of being a kid. I’m not naïveté to the bullshit. I can just ignore it better now. The food is still the best part of the day. It’s tradition now. We’re all smiling and laughing together. I’m still emotional and sad all the time. The people I love most are still getting sick and dying. But not being a kid anymore - not being a teenager anymore - makes things so much better. As I get older, I can compartmentalise things better. When I’m at the table - whether it’s at a restaurant or bar or cafe or at someone’s home - I’m joyful. When I’m sharing food and drinks with people, I’m joyful. Hey, I’m joyful. Life is good. I feel whole. Just for a little while. This is where we all get along. Eating and drinking together. On Sunday. Sunday is the best day. I like Sunday.

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