I awoke at 5:00 am because I was
worried I wouldn't wake up at 6:00 am when I was supposed to. Mass is
at 8:15 and I have nothing to wear and a long drive. When you make
the mistake of only attending Mass on Christmas, Easter, weddings and
funerals, chances are you are not going to have a closet full of
church clothes. So I spend most of the 5-6 o'clock hour mixing and
matching in my head.
Mass was lovely; I don't know why I
don't go more often. Maybe it is that everyone there is always with
their spouse and kids and I don't have either of those so I feel out
of place. Which, I know, doesn't have anything to do with why you go
to Mass.
After Mass the family is coming out to
the 'farm' which consists of two houses, a barn, and a spread of land
freckled with Rhode Island Red's and Herefords. I didn't realize they
were coming straight from Mass so I divert everyone to the one of the
two houses that my mother and her husband live in and away from the
one I live in. My nine year old nephew, Wade, is in the car with me
and he says, “Aunt Sharyn, I can help you clean your house; do you
want one of these?”, and hands me a mini Twizzler from his Easter
basket.
He cranks up the vacuum the second he
gets in my house. He checks in with me after each room, both to see
where he should go next and also to see if I want some Whoppers. I
would short change him if I called him a great kid.
I start the potato salad and deviled
eggs. It is casual; low key. There is no roast cooking all day,
slaving in the kitchen meal. It is a play golf in the front yard;
meander to the creek;
hang out on the front porch kind of
cooking day.
These are the days where you can't go
wrong.
There is a lushness in family gathering
on a special day. It is rich with banter and laughter and wine and
food baked, grilled, boiled, and burnt with love.
The fresh country air gives off
exhaustion that you crave; like a runner's high. Everyone liking your
deviled eggs can do the same.
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