Sunday Memories

"There is nothing higher and stronger and more wholesome and useful for later years than some good memory, especially a memory connected with childhood, with home. If a man carries many such memories with him into life, he is safe to the end of his days, and if we have only one good memory left in our hearts..even that may sometime be the means of saving us."  -- Fyodor Dostoevsky

I should be on an airplane flying to Boston for the week.  I love Boston.  I had hoped to drive over to Marblehead.  We lived there for a very short period of time.  I had hoped to visit some old friends who live in New Hampshire.  I haven't seen them in such a long time.  I had hoped to walk, roam and discover.  It didn't work out; meetings were moved, landscaping isn't finished...it is what it is and I am here.

 On the way home from the airport this morning I passed a Church on the edge of my neighborhood.  It happens to be the same denomination I attended growing up.  As I sat at the traffic light I glanced at the clock on the dashboard and Sunday memories of my childhood came rushing back taking me back to a time of childhood bliss.

I knew, by the time, Church would almost be over.  The congregation would be standing for the closing hymn and prayer.  Unlike today when everyone rushes out to their individual cars, everyone would gather on the front lawn to "visit".  We, the children, ran around our parents legs enjoying the time to play together and hoping we could invite someone home, or better yet, be invited to go home with our friend.  More often than not the four of us would get in the car and head to our house.

Once home we would change out of our "church" clothes and prepare for a day of doing whatever you wanted to do...at home.

Mother would take her apron off the hook, tie it around her waist and start Sunday dinner.  It amazes me when I think about the meal she would set on the table in under an hour.   Our Sunday meal was almost always the same, and it was my favorite... fried chicken, snap beans, tiny new potatoes (cooked with the beans) or creamed potatoes (I got to use the hand mixer, and I could cream the heck out those potatoes), cloverleaf rolls and iced tea.   There was always a bowl of lemon cut up for the tea, and a jar of spring onions placed in the center the table.  I think it was my Mother's edible centerpiece.  She was a woman before her time.  My memories are so vivid all I need do is close my eyes and I am transported back in time. 

While Mother prepared our meal Daddy usually sat in his chair reading the Sunday paper handing off the "funny papers" to my brother and I.  My brother being almost six years older than I, liked the more mature comics like Charlie Brown (he said they had underlying meaning and I wouldn't understand)  and Dick Tracy,  while I preferred Nancy and Brenda Starr.  Oh, how I loved Brenda Starr.  Oh, how I longed to be Brenda Starr.

When the table was set and Mother called us to dinner, Daddy collected and folded the paper, and we headed to the table together.   After the blessing was said, food was passed and the table chatter and laughter began.  No one rushed, there was no where to go.  It was the day to stay at home, relax, do a few chores and just be.

When everyone finished, Daddy and my brother would head outside to mow or take care of the horses; Mother and I would clean up the kitchen (I wasn't much of a kitchen helper.  I really wanted to be out with the horses.)  Mother would later pick up her knitting or her book and go sit outside on the
porch with a glass of ice tea.   I usually grabbed my book and headed up into my treehouse.  Mother would hand a glass of kool-aid up to me once I was settled.

When I think back, I had a wonderful childhood.

Today there is just me.  I think I will take my egg salad sandwich and a glass of iced tea, sit on my garden bench and enjoy listening to the bird's Sunday chatter (I think there is a lot of "bird gossip" I need to catch up with. (you know I'll have a book with me)

Have a delightful Sunday and enjoy just being!