Don't ever say you're on your way down.
I just now figured out what it is.
My parents never got along really well. I remember they fought a lot. I know they split up 3 times before they finally went through with a divorce, but I was practically an adult when that happened. I had already left the house, lived in another state, was well on my way to the 8 years of fucking up.
There is evidence of my father's anger at the world. Video tapes of my brother and I goofing off, and my dad screaming in the back ground. I guess he's better now, I don't really know, I don't live with him.
My mom was always the enforcer, and as such was regarded with a hands off attitude.
But Sundays everything was okay. On Sundays my brother and I woke up before my parents and watched reruns of Sesame Street on PBS. We got the box of Froot Loops down, and ate out of the box, laying down on the floor with our blankets. Mom and dad woke up and made the big breakfast we looked forward to all week. Blueberry muffins, eggs, bacon, orange juice. My dad put on music and shut off the TV, and we all sat around the table. My brother and I would fight over the biggest muffin, and the cats would wind their way through our legs. Afterwards, dad and I would dance in the living room, and then maybe later, we would all go to the park.
Everyone got along on Sundays. There was no fighting, no screaming or door slamming. No one taking off in their cars.
Then later, when dad finally moved out of the house, we would go sailing on Sunday. Sunday was dad day, he would take us out to lunch, and return us tired and sun tanned. Happy.
I'm pretty sure that's why Sundays make me lonely.