Let’s Enjoy Our Sundays

An Essay

The sky is clear and it is a sunny day, although it will not stay like this forever, pity, it will fade away like everything that lives; already in the afternoon this sun will be another and this sky will be perhaps foggy, because the clouds will snatch it and they will take the sun for another path. At night, the moon will look at us and we will be its mirror.

Anyway, enjoy this sun and this sky at this moment, later there will be no other; and look at the mountains, green all green. We know that this green catches us to reassure us next to the blue sky always elusive.

If you detail the mountains that surround the city, you will see cracks made roads, hills on the peaks like gray and shiny as a static colossus, waiting for signs that could come from the heights.

We focus our eyes and we can see the brightness of the long leaves on the branches of the trees, they sway and their brightness spreads like luminous spots in the greenish space and with the leaves and branches the shadows are created that with the wind make figurines in the soil.

The birds in the foliage sing, palpitate and jump from branch to branch, solicitous to get breakfast for sure; maybe they have their nest there very close, where some chick has the peak to give all open, waiting for the arrival of the father or mother with the provision.

But in the middle of such a bright day, it is that around a few bushes of yellow flowers, a very large swarm of bees have arrived, perhaps, from the mountains, as the flowers in those parts have disappeared or have made them disappear, and if there are, they are not noted for their abundance, since they are gradually disappearing; then the bees have to migrate to other sites and in this case, they have come to the city.

My concern is that the city does not have the natural sustenance necessary to dispense sweetness; but something, we would say, has nature to feed and follow its course. These industrious insects have to look for the sugars that man produces artificially. There they are, in their disturbing zigzag, resting on the yellow bodies of the flowers and for that I thank the Great Architect for putting those little flowers there, waiting, waved by the breeze in a bend of the Plaza.

Beyond, an old man with thick glasses, peaceful and lonely, sitting on one of the benches sips the morning under the shade extended like an umbrella of a big pine lit by the bright light, scattered among the branches. He looks at me over his glasses, makes a greeting with his hand, I answer, and he stays there, absorbed, watching the bees spread with the movement of the wind.

AHA! It is Sunday and a ringing of bells is deposited on the ceilings and walls announcing mass. The “talam” “talam” has made the call and the people are coming closer, entering the temple. It is noted that many know each other, for the friendly greeting with their smile and that magical touch, when the hand rests on the arm of the other or of the friend who is entering with the ritual, making the sign of the cross.

There comes an old lady of granny slippers and stockings made in almost transparent cloth. Slow step by slow step of good bearing, brown and powdered; syrupy lips in a half smile and eyes full of that sweetness that old age gives. She does not come alone, instead brings her granddaughter, a slim tall girl with a beautiful waist, and a rather pale face and big gray eyes with a muted look; nevertheless, her innocent beauty seduces, framed in the pastel blue of the simple suit, of two pieces, covering it a little below the knees and of long sleeves, discovered no more than the little white hands. They cross the street and begin to climb one or two the two or three steps in front of the entrance of the temple, while, the tolling of bells ceases, the two women make the sign of the cross and vanish under the shaded arch of the enclosure.

The old man is still on the varnished and shiny bench. He keeps looking at me over his glasses when I walk by his side, then he smiles, showing a few uneven and decayed teeth, but his smile is kind and he waves his hand again, I say goodbye and I leave.

Here I go, thinking of the wonder of a day like this full of light, of which at first I thought unfortunate when observing the zigzagging of the bees. But see, I had the good fortune to cross small moments of my life and thus be able to admire a couple of grateful beings for sharing this sparkling day, for a living. She with her crimson lips without any blush and her dark complexion; with sweet and pleasant half smile; petite and personal. He and the friendly gesture to greet the farewell, as gesturing – goodbye friend – is not that great? Of course, it feels great.

Nature gives us a by step, well, yes, here we are, just passersby in this dimension, said our mother. Nature gives us the possibility of the enjoyment of rain, solar energy, and all the elements that come together with our existence. Today this happens and it does not return. Instants no longer belong to me if I’m not focused.

Then I am at the mercy of time, as long as I try to live it fully its okay. It is to try to make the most beautiful in existence, as it is, to be calm and happy, despite the worries and sorrows that demand our attention.

Although the wine is excellent; although the day is splendorous; Even if the feast is exquisite, the movement performed by one can no longer retrace his steps. Let’s breathe deeply and enjoy.


VIADavid Rivas H.
SOURCEDavid Rivas H.
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Licentiate in Education specialized on Cultural Development. English-Spanish Instructor/Translator. Proofreader/Content writer with an emphasis on Science, History and Sociology. Very Proud Father. Friend to all.