Sunday has always been family day,

for as long as I can remember.

We would get up,

go to church and have a potluck,

or go to my grandparents

or even go home

and spend time in the garden together.

I remember beautiful spring days

planting with my grandparents,

summer days riding bikes with my brothers.

Fall was always my favorite,

when we would harvest nature’s bounty.

The sticky feel of corn

as you take the kernels off

to freeze them for winter,

the smell of dirt

as you brushed it off potatoes,

and the hot,

mosquito infested raspberry bushes

as they plucked at your clothes,

but rewarded you with sweet fruit

that burst in your mouth.

Today brought back those memories as I sat,

holding my youngest as he napped

in a wet bathing suit on my lap,

watching the older siblings squeal

as they jumped through a sprinkler

with their cousins.

I smiled,

watching as they made their own memories

on a hot July day.