Sunday stretches before me, glorious, unplanned. We are on the heels of summer, a sunny but not too hot late August day. I sleep later than I plan. Searching for yoga clothes, I purge one drawer of items I have not worn for years, will never wear, but only one drawer and there are many others. Next, I tidy the kitchen, unloading and reloading the dishwasher. I get the ice blanket from the freezer for my son to ice is sore knee. My husband, his dad, is away this weekend visiting his mom, so it is just the two of us. Happily, my son has fed the dogs and fish; I dispense cat food and preheat the oven. Into the oven, I pop the chocolate croissants from Trader Joe’s that rose, elegantly, underneath a dishtowel overnight. I fasten leashes to the dogs and head out for a walk, hoping to be back before the timer rings. Then, I walk our three dogs, yanking more than is kind in order to arrive back home with one minute to spare on the timer for the croissants! My son and I eat in the garden, me with the Sunday New York Times spread before me; he with a TV series murmuring. I suggest we can talk to each other, so the phone is silenced and I push the paper to the side. Before long, it is time for yoga, a journey about forgiveness of my old, less limber body, a return to a practice abandoned for a bum shoulder and cartilage-free knee. Here I am back on the mat, breathing, practicing self-care, picking up lunch afterwards for my son and myself. He struggles with math problems, with the uncomfortable reality that he has school tomorrow, confirmation that summer has waned before we are ready. And now, the luxurious swath of unscheduled day has given way to afternoon, and I am just writing now, and wishing I could read a novel, but know that what I really need to do is grade the pieces still unread from the on-line writing class I taught this summer. Then, there’s a talk to write for Convocation on Tuesday and another talk to write for the upper school girls on Sunday plus my class to plan and dinner and and and. Sunday spools away, spent.