Elizabeth Iannone's Blog

Sunday. I have always been the sort of person that secretly dreaded Sundays because they always led to another Monday and signified the end of a fun and carefree weekend (or as fun of a weekend as can be expected for a studious pre-med and molecular biology student). I have always wanted to have my social life slated for Saturday and homework and studies slated for Sunday. To me, relegating Sunday as a day of “work” was my sly way of easing myself into a work-filled, class-filled, commitment-filled week. I just wouldn’t let Sunday show me a good time. Well, I’ve converted. To Sundays. My special someone and I were debating what to do for a weekend outing. I, as usual, insisted on Saturday for the aforementioned—and relatively selfish—reasons. He logically suggested that we spend Sunday together as he would already be in town. I gave in. To a Sunday afternoon.

That was one of the best Sundays in a very long time. We went to the park for a Sunday walk, which, as we forgot that our additive ages put us decidedly “over-the-hill,” quickly devolved into a Frisbee free-for-all in the mud and wind. Frisbee morphed into a hunt through the woods for some climbing trees. Kissing in the forest and sitting in a tree arcing over the hillside together made me giddily happy. At the risk of sounding exceedingly cliché, I wholeheartedly concur that the simplest things in life truly are the best things that life has to offer. In the next segment of the spring evening came an epicurean extravaganza of Thai food and ice cream. Topping off this Sunday was the sweetest cherry imaginable—candlelit cuddling. This Sunday has made me want the week to arrive just so I could tackle it in my newfound delight. So, here’s to a day spent in trees and warm, open arms. Sunday.