Yesterday, John wrote a great post about Allen Fieldhouse, a place he'd never been before for a basketball game, but a place that carved a special place in his heart after just one visit.
Today I want to write about a special place in my heart that I only discovered over the past year, since my wife and I bought our first house.
The special place and time is this: Sunday mornings at home with my wife.
Both of us have been fortunate enough to have jobs where we didn't have to work on Sundays. And since we've lived in this house, we both got in the habit of reading the Sunday morning paper. Now, we have our own casual ritual built around reading the paper and enjoying a fine, work-free morning.
We wake up without an alarm clock, usually around 8 or 9 a.m. I go out and get the paper out of the driveway and take it back to bed. We take breakfast with us - sometimes just toast and coffee, other times pancakes and bacon. Whatever we're in the mood for.
Then we sit up in bed and read the paper. I read the news and sports sections; Jamie's favorite part is the engagements and weddings. She's also a coupon clipper, and pours over the inserts.
We make a morning of it, usually a couple hours. Sometimes we'll take a late-morning nap; sometimes we'll turn on the television in the background; sometimes when we finish the paper - if we want to have just a little bit more time to relax - we'll each grab a book and keep on reading.
Eventually, we roll out of bed and discover the rest of our day. Usually it includes a movie - either in the theater or a rental - and maybe, depending how recently we've received a paycheck, dinner out.
It's my favorite day of the week.
Jamie and I probably won't live in this old house forever; in fact, we may not be here very much longer. But I hope that no matter where we go, we take Sunday mornings with us.