Sunday Mornings

Sunday mornings in isolation have made me remember those Sunday morning’s when I was a child. The house was filled with laughter and light, even in the winter months. There always seemed to be sunshine coming through the windows on those mornings but I’m sure that’s just how my mind has chosen to freeze frame it but If I close my eyes I can see the butterscotch sunshine that surrounds every memory of those Sunday mornings.

I’d wake up way after my two older sisters because I loved to stay in bed and dream for as long as I could. I wanted to hold onto the last dream as it faded away, squeezing my eyes tightly shut trying to keep it there, but of course it didn’t work.

My dreams as a child seemed more vivid then my dreams are today. They were always happy, colorful dreams and I'd try to capture them in those waking moments. I’m sure I had some mundane dreams too but, being mundane, they were utterly forgettable. 

When I'd give up the dream for lost and wake up, it was to the sounds of my family at breakfast, talking and laughing. It made me curious what they were saying and I’d hurry to join them at the table.

I was the youngest of three and my sisters, being six and nine years older than me, were in their phases of tween-years. I was always too young for most of what they were saying but I would listen intently and decipher it in my own way as I filled my plate with the best breakfast I've ever eaten.

Today, on this bright Sunday morning, family and childhood memories crystallize as I look through the old family scrap books filled with pictures and snipped mementos. All those memories come with tastes,and smells and highly sensitized emotions. Some can cripple me in an instant with pain and tears of loss. Others can have me laughing and crying happy tears over shared humor. Silly thoughts link with unconditional love as I recall that tight knit circle. I remember it so well, it's an unshakable part of me.

Those days shaped me and I thought the world was an extension of those ideals. Rude awakenings were to come, along with life’s endings that shook my foundation, but in the deepest sanctuary of my soul, I am that child still.

I will always see the world in bright bold colors because of what my family gave and taught me. The images will forever be there to recall, especially, when the real world hurts or disappoints me. 

These memories I cherish so protectively, are the one’s that are so prominently clear, so bold and bright and colorful, like the laughter and love that filled the days of my childhood, when my family was intact, and love was all we knew.