The afternoon was calm and the sky, prettier than usual, was decked with faint, white clouds and flock after flock sailing past. It was quiet and it was perfect and it hadn’t felt that way in a really long time.

And I could not dream up a better way to begin the new year.

My utopian Sunday began with a prayer, of course, like each day should. The coffee seemed sweeter and warmer, and the sunshine more vibrant than ever. A few hours into the day and it was time to prepare for our agenda: hunting for succulents and flowers, and mass.

Perhaps it was the gorgeous display of fireworks from the night before, or the glass of wine I consumed before bed, but my mood was just fixed on the rose-colored side (a mindset I usually couldn’t maintain for long, but that was then and this is now).

I’d like to believe that that perfect day just set the tone for the year ahead.