This past week, I was browsing through Facebook when I noticed that Robin, my cousin Steven’s wife, posted a photo of their home. Steven and Robin live on the north side of Fort Worth near my Aunt Muggs, Steven’s mom. We often talk about how we need to get together, but after living here for two years? Well, it hasn’t happened yet. It’s the classic story.
Anyway, I made a comment on Robin’s photo that they had a beautiful home and she immediately responded: We should get together! How about if we come by on Easter Sunday just to visit - no food involved.
But of course…we’re American. And it was Easter! So food was a must.
Roy recently learned how to smoke a brisket, and so between the many of us, we concocted a menu of brisket, a whole bunch of other stuff, and pies (when really all we cared about was the pies made by Robin), decided on a time, and it was a Go.
When I was a kid growing up on the western Oklahoma plains, some of my favorite memories include family gatherings with Grandma’s pies, apple salad, and laughter. It’s all just so cozy in my head. And so I eagerly anticipated Easter and everything our little get-together symbolized.
Family.
Apple salad.
Pies.
It did not disappoint.
Steven and Robin, Muggs, and my other cousin Tracy and her husband Calvin and daughter Sarah all piled into Lori’s home. (Tami’s family was there too - the entire clan minus Jared). We laughed and talked and ate (of course), and then we just hung out at the table, all 11 of us, swapping stories and wishing time would just stand still for a bit longer.
At one point, Robin and Lori brought out the desserts and lined them up in the middle of the table.
Tracy looked at me and, laughing, said, “We could just grab our forks and dive in. We’re all family. It doesn’t matter, right?”
It seemed the evening was over before it had time to get started. Everyone piled back into their cars and we waved goodbye until…well, until there was nothing.
And then Lori and I cleaned up her kitchen — drying every last dish in the drain, wiping off the counters, stacking too many leftovers in bowls in the fridg — until all that was left was quiet.
When I was in junior high, Dad and I drove in the pickup every single weekend to my grandparents’ house that was a couple of hours away from where we lived. It offered a lot of talking time for Dad and me, and though I’m sure we had our share of being alone with our thoughts, we also spent quite a bit of time talking. One particular day, as the miles rolled by on our drive out west, I said, “You know, Dad, I’ve realized something. When something fun is going to happen, we dream about it and look forward to it and anticipate it…and then it’s over. And once it’s over? It’s over forever. All you have is the memory.”
Dad laughed. “That’s right,” he said. “And you just get to do it again and again and again until life is over. That’s how it goes.”
The older I get, the more I realize the importance of all of those memories, the importance of being purposeful in doing the things one enjoys or being with the people who are, well, one’s people. I’m not so sure I’m successful at being as purposeful as I believe I should be. Life as it is in America gets in the way far too often and our days blur together as one…
But in the words of Jacque, the most important things to me? Family and food.
I’m not sure I appreciate the food piece…but…well, Jacque is on point. That is where it’s at for me.
Today is Wednesday and I have a full day ahead of me. I’m in the throes of preparing for Homecoming which happens one week from today. My life is comprised of knocking off items on a multitude of lists and emails and organizing and meetings. I don’t have a minute to spare and I can feel in my chest a wee bit of stress where before there was only ease and peace.
I’m not the girl that thrives on stress. And so, I am finding myself retreating in my head throughout the day — hanging out the table, looking at Aunt Muggs, my word she looks like Grandma…, hugging my cousin Steven who is big bear of a man, laughing with Tracy who looks exactly the same as she did when we were kids (that should be illegal), and just relishing every moment. Again.
As life rolls by, the years get shorter. I was reminded this past weekend that we need to spend less time letting the days roll and more time doing and being with the those we love. More hanging out at the table, forks in hand, pies lining the center, ready to dive in…because, you know…
We’re all family. It doesn’t matter, right?
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