Sunday
№ 24 · April 18
A weekly ritual, for families

Sunday

A quiet weekly letter home, sent the way it used to be sent.

We'll send you the first issue when we open the doors.

The ritual

Two minutes on Sunday morning. One letter on Sunday evening.

Sun · 9:00 am
Sunday gathers the week. Photos from the last seven days, nothing older, nothing shared.
Sun · 9:05 am
You keep the good ones. Swipe right to keep, left to pass. Two minutes, and you're done.
Sun · 6:00 pm
Grandma receives the issue. An editorial letter in her inbox. No app to install. She can reply — you'll read it.
Issue № 24 · April 18, 2026

Sunday

A quiet week. She spent most of it near the window, watching the birds come and go. On Wednesday it rained and she drew the whole storm with one crayon. On Saturday we walked to the park with Dad and came home with mud to our knees.
A child near the window in morning light
She found the light in the kitchen again. Monday morning
Breakfast, mostly on the floor.
How it works

Three quiet steps. Then forget about it until next Sunday.

Step 01

Swipe

Sunday pulls your week's photos on Sunday morning. You keep the good ones with a swipe. Private, on your device, nothing stored longer than it needs to be.

Step 02

Review

Arrange the spread into a small editorial magazine. Add a note under a photo — one line is plenty. Or don't. The pictures tell most of it.

Step 03

Send to Grandma

At 6 pm her local time, an issue arrives in her inbox. She can reply to the email — you'll read it. No app, no account, no fuss.

An issue of Sunday on a quiet morning
For grandparents

Delivered in their inbox, like a letter.

Nothing to install. Nothing to learn. Large type, generous margins, the photos at the center. When they want more, the Studio waits.

Letter Free, forever

Weekly issue in the inbox. A simple archive on sunday.pics. Reply to any issue with a note — it goes straight to the family.

Studio From $48 / quarter

Arrange favorite photos onto scrapbook pages. A quarterly print book mailed home, on recycled stock. Entirely optional, quietly beautiful.

The quiet part

Sunday is a letter, not a feed.

We built Sunday because our families deserve better than an algorithmic photo stream. Here's what that means in practice.

A note from the founders

We started Sunday because we kept meaning to send photos to our parents, and kept not sending them. The camera roll piles up. The group chat goes quiet. The good pictures — the ones that would make her week — sit buried under screenshots and receipts.

Sunday is the app we wished existed. It asks for two minutes, once a week. It makes something quiet and beautiful out of those two minutes. And then it gets out of the way.

If this sounds like something you've been meaning to do, we'd love to send you the first issue.

— The Sunday team
Questions

A few things people ask.

What if I miss a Sunday?

Nothing happens. No streaks, no reminders the next day, no guilt. Sunday nudges you once on Sunday morning. If you miss it, the week just doesn't get sent. The following Sunday rolls around, as they do.

Can more than one parent contribute?

Yes — in the first release, a second parent can curate alongside you, and both names appear on the masthead. Shared families are first-class in Sunday.

Can I send to more than one grandparent?

Yes. Add as many recipients as you like. Each person gets their own archive at sunday.pics, and can reply directly.

Is Sunday free?

The weekly letter is free, forever. The Studio — scrapbook pages and a quarterly print book — is a paid add-on that grandparents can choose, or not. We make Sunday when people love the book enough to order it.

How is this different from FamilyAlbum or Tinybeans?

Those are feed-shaped, app-first, and ask everyone to download something. Sunday is a letter. It's email-first on purpose. The magazine feeling is the point — not a timeline, not an endless scroll, not a place to live.

When does it launch?

We're opening the doors in small batches through spring 2026. Join the waitlist and we'll send the first issue when it's your turn.

Sunday

A letter home, every week. We'll save you a spot.

No spam. One email when we open the doors.