When working, Mondays were the best day for me. It meant that I had structure and things to accomplish. I’ve worked many weekeneds in my time, but that wasn’t the case for most of my family and friends. I never knew what they’d be up to during the weekends and sometimes that was unsettling for me. I like it when I know they have to work and most get off at 5, then errands and then enjoy a meal. I pretty much know what everyone is doing. So weekends rattled me.
Sundays was my second favorite day when I was working. I would go to my parents ranch and help with any chores they needed help with. I may not be 6 foot tall, but I can just about do any chore that needs to be done. I’d have good talks with daddy when he’d come to see if I needed help. In other words, he was always checking to see if I was okay. I’d clean up afterwards and help mama prepare the rest of the Sunday dinner. She could cook just about anything. She made everything so beautiful and warm.
Many Sundays I had to work and it would kill me a little inside to miss that time with them.
What a precious gift I was given to have so many wonderful Sundays with them.