Several years ago I read a book about "recovering from a loss" - (I think that was the name) and it was an easy read and bullet points. One of the bullet points said: "Sunday's are the worst". That quote stuck in my head.
Sunday evenings are about routine. Getting ready for the week. Rituals. Wrapping up the weekend. When your routine changes and things are different, you get used to everything during the week, but Sunday's are the hardest to change.
And really, I love Sunday evenings - the house quiets down early, it's usually clean for a few hours, the laundry is done and put away. Ready for the week to begin.
One exception. And it's without fail.
When friends/family come to visit, Sunday's are the day they normally leave. A nice weekend visit - Wednesday to Sunday or Thursday to Sunday. Sometimes Monday afternoons, but like I said, Sunday evening.
And the drive home from the airport is ALWAYS the same. Quiet in the car. And I can't even call anyone - just spend the time listening to music having happy thoughts about glorious weekends. And then, I'm sad. Sad the weekend is over. Sad the person is leaving. And I'm not ever sad. I've been here 19 years, and EVERY TIME Carolyn leaves, it's the absolute same feeling. You would think we would be used to it. And it's not just Carolyn, but she's been coming to visit the longest.
So this Sunday evening feels the same distant sadness. The weekend was action packed - from touring Denver, to the Pro Cycle Challenge in Vail, to a hike, a 30 mile bike ride and sitting on the 18th row of the 30 yard line for a Broncos game. Thanks for coming and touring my state. Happy and sad all at the same moment.
This Sunday evening it's okay to just be content. Sunday's aren't the worst - maybe melancholy is a better word. Sunday's are melancholy.
And really, I just need to think: I have to do this again 3 weeks from tonight. When I drop him at the airport again.