Lingering in bed, in the aftertaste of passion, warmth and good food. Making an effort to finally get up and have coffee on the terrace. Mine with a little milk, yours with a wee bit more sugar. We’d then shower and change and go out for a while. Walking, hand in hand, breathing in the Sunday air. Empty streets, laziness, quietness, sun rays and the heat.

We’d stop somewhere for a quick bite, watching a lake, any lake in this city. We’d talk about everything and anything, sometimes even noticing what music they’re playing. We’d then make our way home, dragging our feet and taking the afterglow of our lunch thoughts in. We’d stop and kiss, you’d tell me that you love me, I’d tell you the same.

At home, we’d each do our own thing for a little while. You’d be working on some project. I’d be finishing the fifth book in the Sookie Stackhouse series. We’d then drift off in each others arms and wake up later, when it’s cooler. Just in time to enjoy the evening. We’d go over to our friends’ house for dinner. We’d laugh a lot. And come home to make love. Our kind of love. All ready for a new week!

I really believe Sundays should be the best days. Fun, light, shared with the people you love. Not mushy, not sad. They should definitely not feel like the end of a week, but as the foreplay of a new one. Another week of good and bad thrills, of routine and of new tricks. So while I’m waiting for my perfect Sunday to happen, I thought I’d share it with you. Maybe it helps you make yours better . I am now chatting with a friend, doing a bit of work, and listening to some pretty awesome music. I’m still lingering in today’s morning. Which might not be just perfect, but it’s pretty damn good!