For 25 years my Sundays in the South were just like the Shenandoah song. I would relax at my nice home, pet my dog on the head, kiss my wife, laugh with my girls, and grill something on the patio grill. All the while sipping ice tea and listening to smooth music.
Sundays in 2015….
I wake up and make a pot of coffee. Turn on ESPN and start watching college basketball. My team, Arkansas Razorbacks, sputter against Kentucky in the SEC Championship game. I then watch the Rockets barely skate by the Clippers… Both of the girls invite their “boyfriends” over. SO my little two bedroom apartment with no grill is overrun with testosterone. I crack up thinking how the boyfriends struggle to talk to me. Their mouths are dry and they stutter their words. But they try. That’s all I can ask.
The kids all take my larger car to the pizza store to buy takeout…
My new girlfriend who has touched my heart brings me a “care package”. A home cooked Italian meal with all the fixings! salad, garlic break, and a little pastry of desert. I can not believe how lucky I am. This kinda thing does not happen to 45 year old opinionated divorced fathers.
Everything is just smooth…. Then Fred the Wonder Dog throws up on my ottoman.
My new Sunday in the South… I wouldn’t trade it for anything at the moment.