It was one of those lazy Sundays with a made for Sunday weather. It was cool and gloomy outside. 9 am and there was hardly anyone in the one street that had anything that mattered in town.

Nothing stirred. Even the tree leaves outside my window refused to rustle under the occasional whiff of breeze. Lazy, indeed. There was, however, a faint distant thump reverberating through my ears. Must be Makcik Timah pounding chillis and belacan in her 'batu lesung', I thought. I should soon smell the acrid smell of belacan wafting through my window sills. Heck, the entire town population would soon smell of her pungent belacan.

All that matters are just families, relatives, and, CLOSE friends. Or, for some, all that matters is just himself or herself. The weather is not perfect, never perfect actually. Most will surely continue their 'rest'... sleep that is. Some might start looking for some breakfast. Doing car wash. Or some even have just to start working, in need for that extra cash, to survive in those days.

But Sunday is always special, always near to her heart. She wishes that Sunday is not in the week, in the month, or even on the calendar....She always remember that Sunday. Yes!!, that very Sunday. THAT SUNDAY....

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redgarfield (A98283)

THAT SUNDAY was the day that she sets her eyes on that one particular MAN. Alas,he never knew she existed. But she was always there. Right in front of him. Unfortunately, he always looked past her. The sweet honey like laughters of Sarimah the popular girl in school has always attracted him but never had a second glance at her. For 10 years now.... she has waited, waiting for the day she may have the chance to say I DO to the man who hardly knew she existed in this world....

She has set her promise and dream that she will wait for him forever. ..But...that SUNDAY always haunted her.
If only that SUNDAY does not exist....

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redgarfield (A98283)

She knew she couldn't ultimately suppress the onslaught of more and more Sundays, as she had tried to for hundreds of previous Sundays. Something would have to give, if not her sanity, then her life! Her thoughts were replete with him, perennially shadowing her very id every moment of her existence. If not for the baby she was now carrying, she'd have long been with her Maker.

Only to realise life is too precious. Every Sunday that she sees, that she feels is love. She still sees Sundays. Some don't but she does....

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redgarfield (A98283)

Dragging her melancholic soul to her favourite spot by the window, she tried to make the quiet go away. Patiently waiting for Reba McEntire to sing "Every other weekend", she pulled her knees to her chest and rested her head on them. She closed her sad eyes and saw him making memories of them. She reached out to touch his sweet smile and smell his tanned skin. She could sense his fresh breath on her face and hear hopes made in her ears. A warm sensation rolled down her cheeks, it was raining in her heart again.

Outside, dots of rain started to fall, pattering against the window sill. Barely suppressing a sigh, she gazed dreamily into the shadows of her pass, recalling a very similar Sunday when her vanity suffered a heavy blow, leaving deep scars embedded in her heart, not fully healed even after such a long time, and which she thinks never will...