Sunday, September 4, 2011

a sunday tradition

When I was growing up, we ate most Sunday lunches at my grandma's. She only lived about a mile away, and we saw her almost every day. I have lots of aunts and uncles and bunches and bunches of cousins. And sometimes they were all there. But sometimes it was a small group. Ten or fifty, we ate good and visited for a while before going home.

Now, our Sunday lunches are at my momma's. And we might not make it to fifty, but there are usually at least ten of us.

Momma always worries about what to cook.

I think she's cleaning one of my messes.

But the food doesn't matter (well not much), we come for the company.

And recently we come to get some baby loving.

We do eat. So much that on Sunday nights, I don't cook. Most Sunday nights we don't eat anything at all.

 Sometimes someone will find leftovers or maybe a bowl of cereal.

But today, Momma wasn't home to cook lunch.

I didn't cook lunch. And because we are trained,

I didn't cook supper either. I don't want to mess up a good thing.

No comments:

Post a Comment