Sunday warmth and stillness

Today, not a single thing caused stress in my life. Makes for a perfect Sunday, no? It was the first truly warm day of the season. As I waited for the bus I could feel the sweat building underneath my superfluous winter coat. But in March, you can never be too sure, so I left it on.

As we walked around the Schuman neighborhood, the sun beating down on our heads (what a glorious thing), there was an uncanny stillness in the air. It was as if the warmth caused people to hush their voices and listen for the wind and rain that we had gotten so used to. But thankfully, they heard nothing and went on with their quiet lives.

People's demeanors change when the sun is out. They are more relaxed and do not hurry from one place to the next. As we walked we felt no urgency to find a resting place. The whole neighborhood became our house, the rays of sunlight our curtains. After lunch we fell into a deep springtime nap, with nary a sound outside the window other than the occasional moped or group of children playing on the street.

We walked again later in the afternoon through the park and past cafes. A sidewalk culture is slowly emerging out of the winter habits of fireplace gathering. The brasseries have put out their outdoor tables and chairs, and old men sit down and read their papers cheek by jowel with chatty, eager youths excited to be socializing outside again.

The whole day I felt listless and carefree. It must have shown. Someone at church told me I looked tired. I told him no, I'm just relaxed. I had taken my burdens from the week and laid them to rest.