A Sunday Not the Same

We woke up riduculously early this morning, as usual. On schedule, Hogan appeared bedside, waiting for the first signs of movement...his signal that it's time to start the day.

Per habit and on cue, I rose, let out the dog, and started the coffee. Like every other Sunday, Todd and I sat up in bed, catching up on the news and sports scores from the night before while enjoying our regular cup of coffee. We do this every Sunday...check that...every day.

After coffee, it's our routine to get things moving, get dressed, and head out on our customary weekend morning walk with the hound...a ritual he NEVER lets us miss.

Today was a day like all the others with a glorious walk along the beach followed by a drive that took us through gorgeous neighborhoods we can only dream about being a part of (and probably wouldn't fit into, anyway).

It's fairly standard to stop at BJ's on our way home, and today was another one of those days. It was just a few minutes inside--and Todd alone, as I waited in the running car with the mutt. Then we headed home.

I poured my typical bowl of Cheerios, sat at the breakfast bar, and turned on the TV--perhaps not my proudest habit, but something Todd and I do quite a lot of. For one hour, as is often the case, Todd and I sat glued to "Meet the Press," though today, the glue was a stronger one than usual. And then ... my Sunday changed.

For the first time, I wept and wept openly as the credits rolled.

Next week, we'll go on with our routine: coffee, news and sports, the dog walk, and more. But our Sundays will never, ever be the same.

Godspeed, TJR! As the Irish say: May the wind be always at your back and the sun shining on your face!