By Richie Ann AshcraftIt's Thursday morning and I'm already fantasizing about the weekend. It's been a rough week both at home and at work. I find myself daydreaming about one of my favorite weekend luxuries. Waking up with my family on a cool Sunday morning and watching them be themselves over a cup of too thick coffee with cream in my pajama pants and one of my hubby's oversized t-shirts. I'd imagine this is the time I'll miss the most when my kids are grown and gone. Vacations and holidays are fun but the regular days are the most cherished by me. We make the “Chunnel? out of couch cushions and entice SoJo to crawl back and forth. I keep one eye on •Meet the Press? while I read the paper trying not to look for mistakes. I serve a late breakfast shunning the box marked instant usually making something involving eggs and cinnamon. We let the phone ring unanswered. By noon the floor is littered with couch cushions, newspaper inserts and dirty breakfast dishes. Somewhere in the midst of it all sits a black and white cat. I•m expecting to feel a hollowness and overcast lingering sorrow this Sunday morning as our Kenny that we considered family died. We took it pretty hard and still have the feeling of something missing within our home. This Sunday there will be one less. We will go about the morning routine ever mindful of the loss and hoping that Soren picks something less lovable as a pet when he’s older. I’m hoping for a goldfish.