Chapter 4 Shame On Me 53

SUNDAYS ARE ALWAYS A mixed bag for me. In some ways, I love that relaxed day when I don’t feel the need to produce, which, of course, dates back to my childhood. If we weren’t being productive (whatever that means) we were lazy. Everyone knows that Rose is anything but lazy and I made sure they knew so they would love me. The other side of Sunday is knowing that a full week will be unfolding with the sound of that alarm tomorrow morning. But this particular Sunday, Chris was immersed downstairs in his workshop doing something or other and I was stretching out for an afternoon nap. That is a rarity for me, but I had found that the deeper I delved into my quest to find the gateway to compassion, the more naps I felt it necessary to take. They seemed to be the doorway back to my angel and the little girl. It’s almost like they were singing to me, “We’re waiting for you, Rose.”

As I stretched out on my bed with my lavender silk eye bag blocking out the gray winter, I sighed and snuggled into my flowered down comforter. These flowers were multi-colored roses like the ones blooming in mid-June out back by our patio. Oh, to dream of taking my nap out there on that patio with the warm sunshine and the real fragrant roses surrounding me! Knowing spring is not all that far away now, my mind wandered over to Chris.