Riser

Sundays are always good days not to write.

Lazy.

A day of rest.

But here I am.

Wanna know why?

Because of the streak.

My writing streak.

I don't hold it in as high a regard as DiMaggio's (I hold it higher), but it's mine.

And I want to keep it alive.

Besides, all these pitchers throw is meat.

This is an important day, sometimes reduced to eggs and bunnies.

But those are important to the people I love.

So they're important to me (sorta).

It is the day of comebacks.

Of second chances.

Of miracles.

Of returning home.

Still I rise.