Curtis Johnson Poet Prose

Sunday Afternoons

SUNDAY AFTERNOONS
By Curtis Johnson

Mom had a sister not far away, and dad had three sisters,                                all of which lived within an hour's driving distance.  That meant that
there were lots of cousins with which to play and grow up. Most of my paternal     cousins were older than me, because mom was much younger than daddy.  Not a 	problem, because it meant that we also had second cousins to play with who were 	more closer to our ages.  Being geographically close meant that we could go on nice rides to visit them and enjoy a delicious meal also.

O, I do apologize if you thought this was about ‘cupid on a Sunday afternoon’.
O, pardon me, but I have had my share of picnics on a Sunday afternoon.
My thoughts here are tender ones, about family rides along the country sides;
And about getting away for family fellowship and fun, on a Sunday afternoon

Now, back to my story.  Where was I?  O, speaking of meals. The big food filled table 	with relatives sitting together enjoying a delicious meal was indeed the highlight of 	the afternoon. After the meal, the grownups would return to their seats of comfort to sit and talk about this, that, and the other.  Occasionally, we kids would stop by to sit and listen for a spell, curious to know what the adults were talking about. And wouldn't you know it?  I do not remember a word they said.  So off we would go to 	play outside again.

We did not realize it then, but dad and mom were teaching us a valuable lesson
about the vital necessity of family life.  They were saying that we should never
lose touch with not only our immediate family but also the relatives.                 

Any given Sunday afternoon was the one time that made all this possible.  With no 	work or shopping to be concerned with, and having already been to church, Sunday afternoons were the most blessed times of the week.  The memories of love, security, togetherness, and social interaction were born in the quiet country settings of Sunday afternoons.
	cj08282014

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Bill Lindsay August 16, 2015 at 12:08 PM how I long for those days ... wonderfully sad. Curtis Johnson August 16, 2015 at 4:59 PM Thanks for your comment Bill. There is no hood like childhood

Diane Christian August 16, 2015 at 11:30 AM how lovely, Curtis Johnson August 16, 2015 at 5:00 PM Thank you Diane. Blessings. Curtis.