Sunday Sunshine

I cut a piece of stale crusty Spanish bread on a white  cutting board. The knife barely made its way through the bread as it made crumbs everywhere. All is silent, all is calm. Barefoot on the kitchen floor i feel the coldness seep in as my ligaments and tendons stiffen with its presence. I inhale in, wrapped in my scarf in the kitchen as i look out at the series of iron shades that are drawn down blocking out the light of the other neighbors. A door creaks below as i hear the only other footsteps at this hour of an old woman. A familiar tune breaks the silence below and rises up three floors to my ears. I know this tune well and it is normal for Sunday mornings. The sweet old woman begins to sweep as always as i make my way tot eh ledge to salute her. Dressed in her same nightgown and apron she sweeps the floor, clearing away the dirt from the week. Her white hair glistens as the light finds its way to it and brightens her aged skin. She smiles at me as i call to her. She continues her tune and it is a calming presence as i return to the kitchen. Sleep does not come easy as it is sunday i am drawn to cook. I prepare homemade chocolate cake with gnache frosting, eggplants in a roasted garlic cream sauce and homemade bruschetta chips for the hungry guests that are coming to dinner tonight. I sigh feeling accomplished at what i had done and leave the kitchen creeping quietly with the feet of a ballerina to the salon. Opening the old oak windows, trying to hush the noise of the rusty latch, i peer out onto the street which is deserted aside from those spanish adorned in their black garments on their way to mass. I stand in the window breathing in the fresh clean air. I close my eyes, my equilibrium off, and breathe in deep, not a thought in my mind aside from how and in what way will i spend the day. I decide to relax having been under the weather the past few days and i rest my age in the old rustic orange spanish chair. I can hear the humming of the woman in the distance and her melodic sweeps of the broom as i begin to drift off, finally at peace, and finally sleep finds me.