Sunday Mornings

B4C0A454-579E-47EC-B306-E76CD25BDF24I love Sunday mornings for the same reason I am attracted to the painting by Edward Hooper titled Early Sunday Morning. It is the absence of activity. Nothing and everything happens. What in art is referred to as negative space. In writing, it is what the words dance around but never say. I read years ago that Hopper had initially painted a female figure in the window above the barbershop pole but later converted the figure to a curtain. I for one am glade he did. The viewer is given the opportunity to see only the natural beauty of the sunlight on the street and buildings leaving much interpretation to the imagination. I believe poetry does the same.

Even before reading the title of the painting I noted that it looked like a Sunday morning. There is little in my past to reflect upon as we had to attend Sunday School most Sundays and it was not a memorable experience. Church was forced by my mother’s desire for me to have the experience of Jesus Christ as a life teacher. After I was baptized at age twelve, the mandatory attendance ended. I only went to church after that to meet girls and in later years to search for God and life’s meaning but found neither.

Today, many years later, Sunday mornings are special not for anything they represents in a religious fashion but for what they represents in the absence of traditional religious belief. There are no plans on Sundays, no alarm clock starts my day, and I schedule no “have-to-do’s.” In fact I do not schedule at all. I wake to the sunlight carrying the morning breeze through my window or to the rain beating agains the glass (my favorite). Since my retirement everyday feels like Sunday. I love this life. This day of stillness, this day of rest, Sunday.

 Early Sunday Morning Early Sunday Morning