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  • Writer's pictureDiana Scalia

Sacred Sunday in Paris

One of my favorite Life practices, for many years now, is Sacred Sunday.

This is the one day of my week to just BE, not DO. It’s about a long sleep-in, cozy indoor and (weather permitting) outdoor hammock rest, yummy homemade breakfast and dinner, maybe some TV and other indulgences. In my experience, if I’m not able to recharge on Sundays, I start my week with a void of energy ... which serves no one, especially me. When I have houseguests, they do Sacred Sunday with me.

Only two things are allowed to interrupt Sacred Sunday for me: 1) Certain men; 2) Family - not necessarily in that order of importance, and not usually at the same time.

Now then. There I was, in Paris, at Lydie’s home, having stayed up way past Saturday night, until 2:30am+, revelling in one of our typical, soul-level conversations. Her (and now, my) friend Alice had messaged in around 12am and said she’d be arriving around 11am on Sunday, which came as a surprise. Lydie and I had intended to spend our entire morning at the Aligre Market, one of my favorite spots on the planet.

Our program had to shift, so we arranged to sleep only until 7am, arrive the Market – by foot – 8am-ish, shop, arrive back to meet Alice around 11.

First stop – Ble’ Sucre’ for the best croissants and coffee, which we enjoyed in the sunny park. Our very early rise had been tricky business, yet I started to believe that this was going to be a Sacred Sunday after all, in the highest order!

We arrived the market at a great time – crowded but very manageable. We hit a gorgeous cheese counter first, then selected the finest rotiserrie chicken (that I’d been craving since I arrived), fresh produce for salad, and we were gifted with two gorgeous long-stemmed magenta roses – a very kind gift from the chicken roasters. On our way back, we got mixed olives and amazing artisan breads from tiny boutique merchants.

We met Alice safely and brought her home. At Lydie’s beautiful table, our incredibly delicious lunch was served to welcome all of us. Our conversation was beyond delightful, as if the three of us had known each other forever.

Alice and I sat continued to chat up one of everything and Lydie took a short nap on the sofa, eventually eavesdropping with a smile on her sweet face.

I was right. This was, of course, Sacred Sunday of a different brand. One that was joyfully interrupted by family. It hit all of the high notes that ought to be included in a perfect day – one that felt blessed beyond measure.

Having said all that, we all slept until 10am the next morning!

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