A post on my friend Sher's blog got me all sentimental and nostalgic about Easters past.
Maybe I'm just more inclined to be sentimental and nostalgic since this is the second Easter in a row we haven't hunted eggs and the first Easter we have gone to a restaurant (boo hiss) for brunch.
The restaurant thing? When I was a child, was unthinkable. And maybe it was unthinkable because there were no restaurants open on Easter Sunday.
Maybe there were restaurants open. I don't know. I kind of doubt it.
But I never knew because almost every Easter Sunday (weather permitting)we would descend upon my grandparent's small town park an hour and a half away and literally over the river and through the woods from our home in St. Louis.
All the cousins and aunts and uncles would gather and spread a big ole picnic out on old quilts and we'd eat Kansas City sheet cake (from which I'd try to pick out the nuts) and glazed cold ham and fruit salad and big puffy rolls from Luebely's bakery and all other manner of good things.
And then full and truly stuffed and sated...THEN would come the lolling about on those quilts, where we kids would burp (quietly) and drink soda (and then emboldened by the fizz, burp a little less quietly)
And the burping was followed by fierce games of frisbee tag and hanging upside down on monkey bars until we saw stars.
Followed by more flopping prostrate on the quilts again only to shove down more ham and Kansas City sheetcake.
I miss my cousins, my aunts and uncles who live so far away.And I desperately miss my grandparents, the architects of those raucous, joyous gatherings. They've been gone for over 10 years now.
I miss the rowdy free for all of playing and eating and the cool green grass tickling my nose when I finally snoozed in the full sun after rolling partially off the quilt.
And the rounds and rounds of hugs and kisses when packing up time came. And the one last sneak of a pecan from the sheet cake.
I miss my family. The ones for whom holidays aren't an obligation to be met.
But the ones who see a holiday as a time to lay up rich memories to get you through the hard times.
Fancy china and crystal and a perfectly appointed table are beautiful in and of themselves.
But they don't feed your memories. Or your soul.
2 comments:
nice visual imagery from your words. there is nothing like family you WANT to spend time with. that is just so loaded for me. i am glad you have such great memories of past easters. :-)
oh wow.
your holidays as a child sound very similar to ours.
dang, girl.
you DO have a way with words - our grandmother always had quilts and blankets for us to build tents.
such is the stuff of sweet memories, indeed.
Post a Comment