Except for the fact that there was no cleaning to do, they were almost as bad as Saturdays. It wasn’t that he minded going to services. Church had been part of Sunday for as far back as he could remember. It was just that, back in Albuquerque, church had been the beginning of the day, like an introduction. The family had gotten up early and gone and come home again, with the rest of Sunday still ahead of them waiting to be used. In Elmwood, church and preparing for it consumed most of the day. Aunt Alice liked to rise late, so breakfast didn’t start until the middle of the morning. Then, there was getting ready, which was a stressful experience. Because there were so many of them in such a small amount of space, there weren’t enough closets and bureaus, and people were seldom able to find the things they needed. “I’ll sure be glad to get into our own place,” Bruce grumbled as he plowed through the pile of laundry stacked in the sewing room closet. His own bed was the sofa in the den, and he was supposed to keep his clothes in the same chest of drawers as his sister.
