Obligatory Sundays: Stop and Smell the Pot Roast

by Melody Jean

It’s Sunday. When younger, I dreaded Sundays. This was particularly true as a kid, college student, and when in my early 20’s. It signaled the weekend’s well, end. And naturally with that the start of a new week which I viewed being with filled with endless obligations. I’d wake Sunday mornings and actually feel the weight of five days looming before me filled with school, hours of meaningless homework assignments, extracurricular activities, field hockey practice and other “obligatory things.” Some of these I enjoyed, of course, yet much I’d have preferred to do without. When older in my early to mid 20’s the image in my mind on those mornings shifted to work, errands and household duties. But, the feeling was still the same.

As a child, I vividly remember waking to the smell of pot roast, a roasting chicken or some other dish cooking on Sunday mornings. My dad would have started this meal early to share with our family that day. The smell, which most would love, would bring with it a sense of dread for Sunday and the week ahead. It was a reminder that in fact that day was Sunday.

Today as I sit here on this Sunday morning, coffee in hand, I no longer have that fear of Sunday mornings and the utter grossness of facing a new week. While work can sometimes be daunting, Sundays now fill me with desire. A desire to be the best that I can be and anticipate what the week ahead may bring. I have hope for that which I may encounter.

You see along the way, I learned that every weekend’s end brings a new beginning and with that new opportunity. Now I’d welcome the smell of my dad’s pot roast cooking on a Sunday morning; but those days are gone. This sunday is a reminder to “stop and smell the pot roast” along the way. Our time is short in this world and we have a choice whether or not to smell it’s deliciousness.

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