Something I don’t interpret as pleasure occurs every Sunday evening. Consistently. The feeling all the promise life can hold doesn’t fill my cup.
I could do anything, go anywhere, be with anyone. But it wouldn’t be enough. Graham Greene talked about it in The Power and The Glory. It is the feeling of showing up at a party just after something amazing happened. there is a beautiful moment just beyond my ability to fully experience it.
Sunday I am hopeful the start of the new week will hold childlike bliss. Instead the week begins as all others have. Builds to the relief of the weekend. The weekend ends with the denouement of Sunday evening. The feelings of the week are cyclical. Why is every week the same but expect it to feel different?
mikemeyer949 