"Sundays are the worst day," my father told me one day, talking about his occasional
There is something about Sundays. I feel it myself sometimes, a melancholy that I can't quite figure out.
Make it a habit on Sundays to reach out to those you love, those who live alone or on the edge. Those living with physical or mental illness, caretakers, the grief-stricken. Those who spend Sunday anticipating Monday--the Sunday jitters, my husband calls the feeling. Those whose lives are pretty full during the week but Sunday stretches too long. Or too short.
Go ahead. Make that call. Send that email. Today. Sunday.