Afrigeneas is celebrating Family History month.
The instructions for Challenge #2 are as follows:
On Saturday or Sunday, October 3 and 4, post a photo and/or write about either:
1. Memories of Mom in the kitchen or 2. Sunday memories
I decided to write about Sunday memories
Most of my Sunday memories are good memories. However, at least once a year my Jones cousins and I had to suffer through the most excrutiating time of our young lives (sorry don't have a picture of this).
During the summer months when all my cousins minus one (the oldest), aunt, and uncles descended upon my hometown, my Aunt Martha's house was the meeting place because that's where everyone, except for me, was. So on Sunday after church, we would take off our Sunday best, put on our play clothes, and be ready to go. But there was one little problem, when at Aunt Martha's house, Sundays were for reverence. We weren't allowed to watch TV, we weren't allowed to pull out any toys, we weren't allowed to well ...be kids. This Sunday tradition started with my grandmother and perhaps her mother before her. The irony is that except for Aunt Martha, nobody else in the family seem to follow this tradition. I know my parents didn't and neither did my cousins' parents, so that's why it was like torture for us to sit quitely and do nothing.
Later in life, when we were older and all had driving privileges, everyone figured out they could escape over to my house. And as an adult, I even helped my younger cousin Denise escape, which was really funny. When her mom, who is my first cousin, found out, I remember her mom telling her if we had to suffer through it, you can, too.
As an adult, I sometimes find myself longing for those torturous Sunday afternoons. With the Jones side of my family being so small (especially compared to my maternal side) and spread from east coast to west coast, I don't see my cousins nearly often enough. So strange as it may sound, I do miss those days.
Until Next Time!