Sunday, April 8, 2012

Family Holidays

The hot water splashing in the sink couldn’t hide the cacophony of sounds coming from the living room. Only half-hearing the voices of the various cousins and siblings who allowed her to join their family for holidays, Emma let her mind wander back to warm Sacramento Valley evenings and dinners under her mother’s canopy of climbing roses. Absently blowing bubbles with the dish soap bottle, like she did as a teen, she smiled remembering parental growls when the glowing spheres would float into the living room.

A small tear dripped down her left cheek at the memory of her beloved Gram, laughing in the padded chair on the patio. Everyone else sat on wooden benches, as the odor of citrus smoke wafted overhead to deter the stinging insects in that sticky evening heat. Oh, could that woman tell stories. From tales of her homestead origins in pre-1900 Kansas, to serious premonitions before her son and family moved to Pearl Harbor in September of 1941, Emma never ceased to be fascinated by Grandma Hattie’s zest for living. A call from the other room for her to join in the gift exchange, ended her brief tiptoe into past family gatherings. Kids squealing, the tearing of bright paper, brothers arguing politics-all seems normal with the world.

by: E. Clough


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