A Quiet Morning in August

Grandma Stella enjoys the peacefulness of a Sunday morning, observing nature’s awakening and reminiscing about past moments. The serene atmosphere and simple joys bring a sense of tranquility and connection to the world around her.

It is a quiet Sunday morning in August. The world is still asleep. No one is walking or driving yet. There is a hushed serenity to the start of the new day. It seems that even the birds are careful not to upset this calm, for they gently hum their bird song.

I have been awake for hours, before daybreak. I read my book and sipped my tea. I now raise my head and glance at my bush of figs. Soon we will be able to eat some of them. Perhaps this year we will have enough to place on the Rosh Hashanah table as one of our blessings. The breeze rustles the leaves on the trees. I feel it caressing my skin. It feels so lovely.

I get up to refill my cup. I take the cat food out for Timalina and Jade. I sit at the park bench outside the back door for a while, hoping the cats would come while I am there. A big fat snail sits next to the cats’ water bowl. It is the biggest snail I have seen. The cats do not come. Maybe they know it is Sunday and they too are sleeping late.

I return to the porch. The world is waking up. A husband and wife are walking their dog. I smile fondly. Peter and I used to do that. A young man on a bicycle speeds by. He sings joyfully in a deep tenor voice. I wish he would stop and sing for me to hear the rest of his song, for he has a lovely voice.

A bird perches on the fence momentarily. A couple of monarch butterflies hover over the butterfly bush. The old clock in the hallway chimes nine o’clock. The cicadas begin their song. A light rain begins to gently fall. And half the neighborhood is still asleep. Ah, Sunday!