Music for a Sunday Spring Mood

Sunday in spain

It’s Sunday morning and the window is slightly open. Your toes are peeking out from the sheets and the warm spring breeze is brushing the top of your forehead. Outside, the birds are softly chirping. As you deepen your breath, the mid-morning light starts to flood your opening eyes. Sunday music.

Slowly, your body unravels into a deep long stretch before leaning over the side of the bed and pulling its upper half towards the ceiling. Your feet come in contact with the refreshingly cool surface of the floor. With a serge of energy, all of the weight of your slumbering body swings into balance on the souls of your feet. They subconsciously carry you forward, leaving behind the crumpled sheets on the mattress. 

A pair of lounge pants sit waiting on the arm of the couch next to the baggy sweater you were too tired to put away yesterday.  

Bedhead still intact, you drift towards the apartment door, grabbing keys and spare change along the way. It’s not quite warm enough for slip-on shoes but the shining sun is persuading you otherwise. 

The door shuts behind you and with a gentle thump, your keys fall into your pocket. The hallway is quiet, only the sound of your steps heading down the stairs can be heard. 

 The front door swings open to the sweet dewy smell of spring. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, your legs instinctively lead you across the street onto the sunny side. Each front yard displays an array of flowers more vibrant and beautiful than the last. Sunday music.

Gradually, pleasant whispers of morning chatter come into earshot. The deep bark of a neighbouring dog becomes louder and sharper. You turn the corner and it all comes together.  The bakery is already bustling with activity. People are sitting outside with blankets on their laps. Coffees in hand, sunglasses on, they sit peacefully and soak up the morning rays. As you pass them, you can just about hear the crust of the fresh bread tearing on their plates in preparation for butter and marmalade. 
You barely notice how you made it back, distracted by the comfortable warmth emanating from the paper bag of fresh bread and croissants. Passed the threshold of the apartment, all unnecessary items of clothing drop to the floor. Moments later, the espresso machine roars to life as the liquid gold slowly drips into your favourite ceramic cup. 

Coddling the cup in one hand and a plated croissant in the other, you make your way to the couch and enjoy the peaceful murmur of spring. Sunday music.

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