Sunday Morning

It's just another manic Monday
I wish it was Sunday
'Cause that's my funday
An I-don't-have-to-run day...

When I was a young woman, this Cyndi Lauper song really hit home. Now, as a freelancer, my days are less structured and I make my own hours. So Monday doesn't have to be manic in the same way as it did when I had to get up in the dark at 5:30 A.M. after a weekend at my beach apartment and then race on foot to the train in Asbury Park for a 1 hour and 40 minute ride to Penn Station, and a subway ride after that.

As Monday looms tomorrow, though--Sis and Will are supervising the move of Dad's belongings, and I'll be there for his physical move to the place on Wednesday--I've been reflecting on Sundays, and how they used to be. Life has been weighing me down, and I want to go back and think about what was. Hoping, I guess, that I can find gold basics, building blocks even, that can help me sort out life as it is now.

Sundays in Dumont
1. What kind of Entenmann's cake did Granny get us? She gave it to Mommy yesterday. Oh, right, this week it's the crumb cake. Last week, it was the chocolate-chip loaf cake. They're so good. I can't wait to take it down from the top of the refrigerator and cut a slice.

2. I'll go to church with Mom at 12:45, the last Mass. Daddy already went to the 7:30 Mass, because he gets up so early every morning. Mommy and I love to sleep late. Daddy doesn't like going at 12:45 because by the time we get back, it's almost 2 o'clock. "It shoots the whole day," he says.

3. Mommy's raincoat is too big. It's funny that she got that big size just because it was on sale. She makes me and Sis laugh when she tells us that. The pews are gleaming and polished. Is it wrong that I'm spending so much time daydreaming here? I wonder how Ron B. is. I remember the day I walked back from Communion and had on that white sweater, the hand-me-down from Andrea, and he noticed me. There's Mrs. K. in a pew up ahead. She looks fat from behind in those stretch pants.

4. The Gallaghers just got here. They're always really late. Mrs. Gallagher and Margie are so pretty. They have pretty hair. Poor Eddie. He has a brain tumor. His head is bulging. He's in my homeroom.

5. We're back from Communion, praying quietly. It's so funny that Mr. Vafier told us all in sixth grade when we went to church as a class that he didn't want to see our backsides on the pew, that we better kneel up straight. There are the Gallaghers, walking back from Communion. Eddie is walking slowly. What's that? Mommy is sobbing into her hands. What's wrong? That's scary. She never does that. She's hiding her face but shaking. Oh, she's crying about Eddie. Maybe I should be crying too. Is it wrong that I'm not?

6. Mass is over. Down the side steps, walk by the rectory. "Hello, Father," Mommy says to Father Bryce. He's almost blushing, she's almost blushing, almost bowing her head--this must have been how she was as a girl when she said hello to the priests in her parish. Father Bryce is tall and handsome, with steely blue eyes and rimless glasses. His body looks lean and muscled under the long black robe but I probably should not notice that because he is a priest. Maureen's family knows him well. Walk around the back of the church, where we played at recess when we went to St. Mary's School. There are the frosted windows and the windowseats that Maureen and Tish and Lorraine and I used to fight over. Only two girls could sit on each sill, and we sometimes raced for them--M. and T. vs. me and L.

7. Back in the car. Mommy's driving.

Where to?
Not sure where we went next--home to Dad, who might have had sauce simmering on the stove? Stop for groceries? Pop in to visit Granny and Grandpa at their apartment in town?

All I know is, I'm going to Mass today--before a visit to Dad. I think I miss the rudder of faith more than I realize. I can't steer this boat alone.

P.S. I daydream just as much now in church as I did then.