A wagon ride down to Grammie and Papaw's house
This Easter was very quiet and simple. In years past, we always trekked to my Grandma's house (about an hour and a half away) and crammed into her tiny kitchen and dining room with my uncles and cousins. It was always a loud and boisterous occasion, and border-line claustrophobic, given the closeness of the shared quarters and my Grandma’s towering, hoarded collections of this-and-that’s.
But the day after Thanksgiving last year, my Grandma had a stroke, and she is now confined to a wheel chair. Not wanting to put a strain on her and her recovery, we decided to stay in town this year, and celebrate the holiday with my mom and dad, who live right down the street. Grandma still made her presence felt, though - she made her famous Coconut Cake and ferried it down to us through my sister.
After lunch, which was a tasty turkey, stuffing, and green beans affair, we walked back to my home and hunted Easter eggs. The day had been a little rainy, so we ended up hunting them inside the house. Mike's mom and grandmother also came over and shared the Coconut Cake and helped the boys find the eggs. It was peaceful and relaxing. I enjoyed listening to my mom (a.k.a. Grammie) and mother-in-law (a.k.a. Grandma Pendley) gab it up. They’re hilarious when they get going.
Part of me, however, misses the frenzy and activity of the by-gone days. The vying for the last scrap of Broccoli Cheese Casserole, the animated conversations of political and social science brought forth so eloquently from the lips of my blue-collar uncle (I’m being facetious), the not-so animated conversations of my unmarried and much younger cousins, who I still shared the children’s table with, even though I had expanded the table to include my husband and our own children. Unfortunately, I don’t see this type of gathering ever happening with my family again.
Inside, I realize that this event happens to all of us. One day, the tides simply turn. Generations shift. New traditions begin. Watching as the changing-of-the-guard occurs between my Grandma and my mom, I am troubled by the inevitable passage of time, and the certainties that will travel with it.
Then, I realize that allowing myself to be burdened to watch life’s clock is ridiculous. It’s better to focus on the time at hand, and to appreciate what we have – because what we DO have is truly precious.
But the day after Thanksgiving last year, my Grandma had a stroke, and she is now confined to a wheel chair. Not wanting to put a strain on her and her recovery, we decided to stay in town this year, and celebrate the holiday with my mom and dad, who live right down the street. Grandma still made her presence felt, though - she made her famous Coconut Cake and ferried it down to us through my sister.
After lunch, which was a tasty turkey, stuffing, and green beans affair, we walked back to my home and hunted Easter eggs. The day had been a little rainy, so we ended up hunting them inside the house. Mike's mom and grandmother also came over and shared the Coconut Cake and helped the boys find the eggs. It was peaceful and relaxing. I enjoyed listening to my mom (a.k.a. Grammie) and mother-in-law (a.k.a. Grandma Pendley) gab it up. They’re hilarious when they get going.
Part of me, however, misses the frenzy and activity of the by-gone days. The vying for the last scrap of Broccoli Cheese Casserole, the animated conversations of political and social science brought forth so eloquently from the lips of my blue-collar uncle (I’m being facetious), the not-so animated conversations of my unmarried and much younger cousins, who I still shared the children’s table with, even though I had expanded the table to include my husband and our own children. Unfortunately, I don’t see this type of gathering ever happening with my family again.
Inside, I realize that this event happens to all of us. One day, the tides simply turn. Generations shift. New traditions begin. Watching as the changing-of-the-guard occurs between my Grandma and my mom, I am troubled by the inevitable passage of time, and the certainties that will travel with it.
Then, I realize that allowing myself to be burdened to watch life’s clock is ridiculous. It’s better to focus on the time at hand, and to appreciate what we have – because what we DO have is truly precious.
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