Church day

Sundays aren't as busy as other days of the week for me. I get to sleep as long as I want and do nothing, sometimes.

I didn't feel up to going to church this morning, but Mom hates it when I slack off on Sundays.

"You don't have to work so hard every day of the week and then decide to be lazy on a Sunday."

So, I dragged myself to the bathroom, did my business, then took a shower.

I picked a black peplum blouse, a knee-length cream-colored pencil skirt, and black heels, completing the whole ensemble with a black hat and a black bag. Lots of black, I know. It's my favorite color.

To be honest, I can't remember half of what was said in church. I missed Sunday school, too. I could only try to discreetly fight off yawns and avoid dozing off. Having the usher wake me up wasn’t appealing, and if I know my mom... which I do, she’ll be watching me.

I'm usually not like this, but it was unavoidable with how tired I was this morning. Maybe I should take Mom's advice and stay home during my off days, but who am I kidding? My job keeps me sane.

When the service ended, I waited long enough to say hi to my friends, who are also my bandmates, then left.

As soon as I got home and changed into comfortable clothes—an oversized T-shirt and lounge shorts, skipping underwear (the less clothing, the better)—I worked on making lunch before Omma and my siblings got back. I recently started watching K-dramas and took to calling my mom "Omma," and it just stuck.

Omma had to wait for the women's meeting, and my siblings usually stayed behind for religious classes.

I had just finished setting the table when I heard a knock.

That would be Jessica, my first sibling, but just to be sure, I asked anyway:

"Who's there?"

"Open up, it's me," Steph, my second sister, grumbled. She's the fourth child before the twins, Michael and Michelle, the babies of the family. Yeah, I’ve got a large family.

I opened the door and went back to get out the plates.

"E kaabo, Ma," I greeted my mom in her native language.

"Kule," she replied and went straight to her room.

"You guys should go change. Lunch is ready."

"Thanks, sis. I'm starving," Christopher, my third sibling, said.

"What did you cook?" Jessica asked.

"Rice and stew with smoked fish and eggs," which had the twins skipping to their room with grins on their faces. They both loved rice—couldn’t for the life of her understand why.

"I'm gonna take a nap. I was only waiting for y'all to get back."

"Alright, I'm glad you cooked. I'm not in the mood to," Jessica said, sighing in relief.

Chris scoffed. "When are you ever in the mood to? It's not like you're good at it. I cook better than you, anyway."

I couldn’t hold in the laughter. Chris is indeed a better cook.

Steph snickered, which earned her a dirty look from Jessica.

"Steph, make sure the twins shower and change. Jessy, the table is set. Just serve Omma and everyone else. I'll leave you to it then," I said, walking to my room to catch some Z’s. The food would have to wait.