As Sunday morning’s sun rises I can’t help but look forward to the day. I love Sundays. I always have…well maybe not always. In those early years after Dave died, I could hardly bare to live through them. Sundays had always been a haven of family, fun and rest.
Years before Dave and I met, I lived in beautiful San Diego, CA. At the time, my sister lived north in Santa Monica. We would switch off driving to each other to visit. The drive between Los Angeles and San Diego is one of my favorite stretches of highway. I would drive through beautiful Oceanside, Carlsbad, and San Juan Capistrano toward LA watching the ocean most of the way. On Sundays, when I would drive home I always thought of the Monkee’s song, Pleasant Valley Sunday. Seeing all the housing developments and shopping malls on the hills always reminded me of the song. On one side there was the beautiful Pacific and on the other side of the highway there was suburbia exploding.
Now, all these years later, I can’t help but compare my Sunday life to those drives…on one side of the highway was my beautiful life that was in my plan…a husband, kids, a job I love and well, suburbia – and on the other, this life I lead now as a widow. It’s not as beautiful as the first plan, or the Pacific Ocean, but, it has a purpose and new isn’t always bad. I can still look back at my past life like I could look at the Pacific Ocean and admire its beauty even while I build on the other side of the highway…or the other side of my life.
Although this life is not the one I chose, it still has its moments of beauty.