The rain taps softly against the windshield, a rhythmic hush that makes the world feel a little slower, a little softer. It’s early—too early for anyone to be up and moving. The streets are still, the sky is heavy with clouds, and for once, the world isn’t demanding anything from me.

I’m posted in my car, eating last night’s catfish straight from the container. Cold, but still hitting. The warmth of the car wraps around me like a cocoon, but truth be told, I’d rather be in my dream setup—a tiny house tucked into my backyard. Just a cozy little space, all mine, where I could sit by a big window, listening to the rain, feet up, completely unbothered.

For now, the car is my sanctuary. I light up, letting the smoke curl and dance in the dim morning light. A slow inhale, a slower exhale. No phone calls, no emails, no “Mama! Mama!” Just me, my thoughts, and the quietest time of day.

On the screen, YouTube plays something I’m half-watching, half-listening to—a docuseries, a deep-dive vlog, maybe just r&b with rain visuals that match the real-life storm outside. It doesn’t really matter. The moment itself is perfect.

This is what Sundays should feel like. A pause. A reset. A deep breath before the world starts spinning again.

Xoxo, Drea