Remembering Sundays After Church
I love Sundays after church; I can relax, read a book, or watch television. In times past, I would go to church, then head to Aiken to visit my parents. This time of year finds me reminiscing about the Sunday dinners with Mom and Dad. Then heading to their living room to sit and listen to my dad tell stories about his past, while mom piddled around the kitchen ... talking trash to whoever had dropped by for a plate and a good cussing out. Sometimes we would ride down the country to visit Uncle Dime and Aunt Emma, or ride over to Augusta to check on my sister, Shirley.
There were times my sister Sadie and I would get a competitive game of bid whist going. We'd partner up against Larry, Johnnie, or Eloise and Glen (may the four of them rest in peace). Those were some good old times during my Sundays after church.
Remembering them used to make me tear up. But now, those memories just bring joy to my heart, and I can't help but smile and thank God for those Sundays. Sure, I miss them. I miss my sister, Shirley, my nephews, Sean and Anthony, Uncle Hick, and my friend Lavern, and many others who were part of my Sunday-after-Church visits.
My Sundays after church are very different now. No house filled with laughter. No card games, rum cake, or World War II stories. No random friends and family who we hadn't seen in forever dropping by my parents' house just to say hi. Those sounds of love and laughter are still fresh in my memories. And even though that season of my life has passed, I am grateful for those SUNDAYS AFTER CHURCH.
