Why is it that some days are harder than others?
Sundays to be exact.
Take this Sunday for example. Mollye chose to be extra talkative in church. I decided to be the good mom and take her to the nursery. Well let's just say that was like throwing her in the lion's exhibit at the zoo. Seriously it was-three screaming children, another one with diarrhea, two in the corner playing by their self, and two teachers each sitting on the floor doing nothing really. So needless to say we did not stay. We decided to go ahead and head home.
This is when the hard part hits (yes, I guess the stuff at church could be considered hard as well). We are driving home. We pass my aunt's house (where my grandmother always lived). The simple look at that house is when I have the hardest moments. I know that had it been last year we would have taken the opportunity to stop in and see Nana. She loved for Mollye and I to come visit, and the best visits were those Sundays when it was just Mollye and I sneaking out of church early. Oh how I would love to have just one more of those visits. I am thankful for all the visits that we did get to have, but I can't help but just wish she could hear that sweet little voice say "I love you, Nana."
So I ask why Sunday are you so hard? I know I do not have an answer, and I know that Sunday will always remain a challenge as it was our day. My only solution is to take the longer drive home and avoid the house all together on those hard Sundays.
