So many traditions are centered around holidays. Growing up, my family gathered in the north Georgia country at a Webb family member’s home for not only Easter, but also a reunion. It moved around a bit, and I suppose that was based on the elder matriarch and ability to host. With time, that changed, as this reunion has been taking place for almost (if not fully) a hundred years.

 

My father didn’t care for my mother’s side of the family (and she reciprocated in kind), so we didn’t go to this reunion every year. Actually I only remember a few of those gatherings from my childhood. As an adult, Mister and I attended probably the same number. But when you divorce someone in your family, as I have, sacrifices are often made. The reunion has been a sacrifice. But that’s not my point.

 

My point is this: Easter holds tremendous memories for me. Many are from those family reunions. There was my great aunt Nelle (third from the left), who has now passed…

 

 

Growing up, she was nicknamed “Beauty” and I believe it. Caroldyne is on the far left. She’s the only sister still with us. She is now the matriarch.

 

 

And that’s an interesting thing about my family. There have been strong men, to be sure. But the women! With few exceptions, the women have been mighty! And gorgeous. These women are the reason I choose to age naturally. I mean, look at them!

 

I do miss the family reunions. I miss the food. (Good Lord! The food!) I miss going to the country church and hearing the choir’s Easter Cantata. (But that ended years ago, after the youth of that tiny church immersed themselves in American Idol and decided they could do better. I only witnessed that once, and they did not do better than the choir, folks.) I miss the gi-normous egg hunt, where children look for Easter eggs…

 

 

…and adults look for money eggs. It’s a really big deal!

 

 

I miss the softball game, where I have witnessed 80-year-olds swinging bats and running bases better than I ever have. I miss Nelle calling the cows — Hoo-Hoo! I miss traipsing off into the woods to visit the little house…

 

 

And I miss being in the country, with the family I adore.

 

 

I may not always spread my wings, but I surely have them. It’s times like Easter, though, when I miss my roots. Whether this day holds religious significance for you or not, I hope it finds you in the soft greens of spring, building your own roots, stretching your own wings, making your own traditions. Happy Easter.

 

One thought on “Easter Sundays Past

  1. As promised (to myself) i am back every few days checking the blog-seeing what’s new in your world and as i catch up over the last few days i read through your easter day blog–takes me back, as ‘they’ say…

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