I love Sundays because they are lazy and cosy and I get to spend them with you. Sometimes we mooch around the house in our pajamas, reading papers, watching DVDs, munching on comfort food, snuggling up against each other. And sometimes we throw on our clothes and set off on a little adventure, discovering new sights and sounds and tastes.

But God how I also hate Sundays.

And I hate them because every Sunday we have to leave each other. Every Sunday it feels as though wicked Time has played a cruel joke on us by fast forwarding our weekend together so that it all seems like a blur. That it’s all come to end way too quickly.

When it’s all over we cling to each other bidding our goodbyes, all hugs and kisses. I feel a gentle tugging at my heart as if a million tiny butterflies have placed a million tiny hooks inside me as they flutter about carelessly. Yes, I feel that wrench, but I also notice that I have an overwhelming sense of calm, because in five days time we will be together again. Because no matter how many times you may have to leave me, I always know that no matter what, you will always come back.

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