sunday

Sometimes I have loved the peacefulness of an ordinary Sunday. It is like standing in a newly planted garden after a warm rain. You can feel the silent and invisible life. All it needs from you is that you take care not to trample on it. And that was such a quiet day, rain on the roof, rain against the windows, and everyone grateful, sinceit seems we never do have quite enough rain. At times like that I might not care particularly whether people are listening to whatever I have to say, because I know what their thoughts are. Then if some stranger comes in, that very same place can seem like somnolence and like dull habit, because that is how you're afraid it seems to her.

(another quote from Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson)

My mom sent me this book. I finished it quickly in between grading finals a few weeks ago. It's a plain book about a plain life, but the language in it makes me want to drink it in slowly like a warm cup of milk tea on a cold day. It's just good and satisfying. There's a sticker on the front that says "Winner of the Pulitzer Prize" so I guess that other people agree. Thanks, Mom!