Sunday Morning

Sunday Morning Several years ago before my Grandparents passed away I would often drive a couple of hours to their house and spend the weekend with them.  We were very close and I loved spending time with them. Most evenings my Grandfather (who we called Pops) would fall asleep in his chair then end up going to bed early. My Grandmother (who we called Brownie) and I would stay up late talking, playing Wii bowling and drinking diet cocktails (don’t ask, they are terrible).

Sunday morning I would wake up, usually before 8am and make my way out to the kitchen. Pops was usually sitting at the table reading the newspaper or at the kitchen sink filling up his hummingbird feeders.  He would always make some smart ass remark like, nice of you to join us or good afternoon. I would pour a cup of weak Folders’ coffee and sit at the kitchen table looking out into the beautiful, lush backyard.

Pop’s always had a green thumb and a beautiful garden; huge hydrangea the size of your head, fragrant gardenia, mini lemon tress and more. Both of my Grandparents loved hummingbirds, they had quite a few feeders hung up around the house. They tried to put them outside of every window so you could always look out a window and see a hummingbird.

This piece was inspired by my visits with them. My Sunday mornings with them were always a happy and peaceful experience that I will never forget.