For a while I didn’t like Sundays. It was one of those days of the week that really bored me. I didn’t understand the big deal about it. In Haiti and many parts of the world, it is considered the day of the Lord and a day of rest. Haitian families typically cooked fancy meals for their families to celebrate. I loved my “du riz ak sos pwa blan, salade russe, macaroni au gratin, canard ou pintade” on that day. My mom (well not her exactly) would cook as if she were having a feast to feed an entire village. Anyone who would visit us on that day would get a full meal, whether they were expected or not.
Even now, my mom (actually her this time) cooks up a meal that could feed half of a village. While americans typically only eat turkey on Thanksgiving, she’s constantly making them. Salade Russe also remains on the menu. Du riz ak djon djon is another favorite of mine.
I was never really sure why Sunday bored me so much although I was always surrounded by amazing food and family. But in 2012, it turns out that I’ve warmed up to Sunday after all. It all started when I moved to my brand new studio apartment at the top of Central Park in Harlem. My apartment has a window wall that overlooks Morningside Park, St. John the Divine, and some Columbia buildings–and from there I could see a beautiful sunset.
Sunday is my day to sit on my couch and admire the sunset– to pay attention to one of the most beautiful things in the world. Something that happens everyday and often ignored. I love when the clouds turn into pastel colors of cotton candy. I love when before it really sets, the dramatic colors sing sweet melodies on the sky. I always picture a whole orchestra playing along with the way the sun moves and goes to hiding in the sky. All water tanks and sky scrapers are kissed by warmth, everything looks so much more beautiful. Then it just suddenly gets dark. No matter how many times I’ve seen it, it still saddens me to see the darkness.
Another thing I love about my Sundays is my boyfriend’s company. I’ve mentioned that he loves cooking, and Sunday is the day he cooks the most delightful of meals. From gnocchi to risotto, I’m usually dancing the kitchen as he cooks. He typically makes me a martini just how I like it or a Manhattan as I sit still looking out of my window.
Sunday is not so bad after all. If only it wasn’t followed by Monday…
Blouse: Gap, Pants: Thrift, Shoes: Steve Madden, Belt: Thrift.