Oh, We Know How To Do Sundays

Ahhhh... Sunday afternoons.
They have always been one of my favorite days/times of the week.
Always.
Until they weren't anymore.

In 2005,  when my little Wyatt was just 14 months old, my grandma passed away and it was the end of so many things for me... and for our whole
family I suppose.
So many things that were ingrained in my life, things that were just a part of our schedules and weekends and lives... things I realize now I always
kind of thought would be around... even though I knew they really wouldn't.

In my family Sundays have always been a day to get together.
Ever since I was little we always went down to my grandma + grandpa's house on Sundays, sometimes we went for dinner and lots of times we would
just go for dessert- and if you want the honest truth, for my grandma's homemade pie.
There will never, ever be a better pie maker, although a few of my aunt's and my mom do get pretty darn close.
Peach pie, strawberry pie, apple pie, and for my grandpa, mince meat pie.
And in the Summer, one those hot and sticky days when we were really lucky, when we pulled in the drive and headed to the back door and saw my grandpa sitting
on the back patio in his light blue pant-jeans and his short sleeved dress shirt, sitting in the corner by the ice cream maker, we knew it was an extra-special Sunday.
Homemade, hand-cranked vanilla ice cream.
Not only one of the best things I have honestly ever had the pleasure of tasting, but one of my most favorite childhood memories, my Grandpa Jesse's
homemade ice cream.

When your mom is one of fifteen kids, you have a lot of cousins, you're surrounded by family.
Lots of older cousins, younger cousins and cousins your own age... it is a good thing.
When your mom is one of fifteen kids you grow up LUCKY.
You come from a family of hard-workers, with good values, that knew what the important things in life really were, and I knew from a very young age
that the most important thing is family.
I have been lucky enough to grow up with and near my cousins, who were not only some of my first playmates as kids, but today are some of
my closest friends... much like extra siblings.
That is a true gift from my grandma and grandpa, a gift of cousins and aunts and uncles, that all love me no matter what.

These days,  Sundays look a little bit different... and they are much more few and far between.
The big, beautiful old white farm house where my mom and her siblings grew up is now occupied by my uncle and aunt.
The funky carpet is gone, the walls are painted, floors refinished, heavy old drapes have been removed... but it is still the same.
The attic that all of us kids used to play in on holidays has now been renovated into a full apartment/guest space... there is a huge pond now out back
behind the garage where the old barn used to be.
It's the only place that can hold our family; Christmas Eve with 65+ people really just can't be anywhere else but there....most of our Holiday
traditions still live on in this house, but now with our kids, the next generation of grandkids.
Sometimes it makes me really sad that my grandma + grandpa did not get to see all of us raising our kids, their great-grandkids, but I think they would be
pretty proud of us for the most part.

This is where my family is, this is where my heart will always be, in that big old house, in that small town, in the country, by the fields
and next to the cemetery.
Last time we were all there together, on the day where all of these pictures were taken, we all got together and had homemade ice cream and dessert,
courtesy of that super fancy ice cream maker(above).
The kids swam in the pond, we told stories, chased kids, ate pie, got all caught up with each other...
It was a good day, so good,  the kind where you stay way later than you planned to because it's just right where you know you should be,
and you just can't seem to make yourself leave.
I drove home that night in the Jeep, windows down, through the country, just the kids and I... completely quiet because they were so tired... with a full heart.

Sometimes I like to think about the first time I took Wyatt down to meet my grandma.
It was a Sunday afternoon, no doubt, and by this time my grandpa had been gone several years and my grandma was pretty much completely blind
for quite a while now, due to Diabetes.
I remember taking Wyatt over there to her in the most handsomest little outfit he had,  putting him in her arms and her looking down at him and saying;
"Well, I'm sure he's awfully handsome"(because she couldn't see his face), and giving him a kiss on the forehead.
She told him that she loved him and although my memory is not always the greatest, I knew right in that instant that I would
never, ever forget that moment.

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Hope you are all having a great weekend... Happy Saturday!!