There Is a Presence To a Sunday Morning

There is a presence to a Sunday morning, an ease. People waiting on line for their coffee seem more animated, less agitated, friendlier….almost chatty. The traffic seems to get along better too. No schedules demand cut throat tactics to beat the next red light. School buses, along with their riders, are tucked away for the weekend. The hum of the tires on the pavement seems almost musical, soothing, in a movingstillness kind of way. Joggers seem more relaxed, their dogs less pressured to “get it done”. Ducks idly talk to their shadows. Church bells chime more jubilantly echoing over the breaking day. We sit. Two old men sipping hot coffee. Reveling in the present, reminiscing about the past, in no hurry for the future. An elderly woman ambles past, smiling at the blowing leaves, shuffling her feet in mock childhood frolic. Cyclists relax into a near traffic-less rhythm of wheels, spokes, gears - grinning into the chill breeze of November. The firehouse doors are open, the firefighters resting between rounds, trucks sitting idle in the bays, hoses rolled and ready. Two squirrels play tag in front of a blue house disappearing into piles of leaves only to re-emerge atop a fence post. A grey and white cat lays motionless nearby. There is no rush to the cadence of the churchgoers. It appears they may have already entered into the day’s prayer. A gentle sense of unanticipated hope pervades the subtleties of life. There is a presence to a Sunday morning. John g. Lawless 11/8/2015