A Southern Sunday

Here in this home we make sweet tay, tend the chickens, and cook some breakfast first thang.

We make sure the beer is replenished for this hot humid day. The men will be askin for it to be cold by noon.

The sun takes up the dew and some of the bayous and swamps. The gators and turtles are restin on logs.

We set the fans high and close our doors. We have till three to put up the skeeto nets.

At noon the TV’s on football. The kind you play here, not over seas. Beer is cracked open.

Everyone arrives who will be eatin. The husbands fix up the grill and complain about the charcoal. Now they’re off on some conspiracies.

The wives prepare the banes and slice the taters for fries. They cut up the tomatoes and salads. They talk about their silly husbands.

The husbands cook the burgers and boudin. Everyone grabs a plate and fills it up.

Grandma arrives jist in time for the food like she always does. She’s brought pie! The good kind too.

We pray and then we feast in front of the game. The men are way more into it than the wives (they’re rating butts and cheering along with the men).

When the game is over everyone is engaged with one another. Beer cans are stackin up from everyone. The pie has been eaten.

The dog wonders in. From the win, the men are so animated. The wives are happy. The boys are showing off to the girls, who giggle at they’re effort to play like the professionals.

Grandma leaves. Kissing the grands and saying farewell to their friends. The littlest begs to stay with her. Momma says yes.

We put up the skeeto nets so we can sit outside and watch the kids play with each other and the dog in the yard. All of them conveniently forgot their shoes again.

The men discuss politics, the women gossip, catching each other up on the latest gossip.

The sun goes down, more burgers are made. The adults are a little tipsy. The kids laugh at their parents’.

Everyone settles in. The little ones fall asleep with the dog. The older kids with sneak beers and get tipsy and no one notices.

The adults who can leave do. The ones who have to stay do. And the kids fall asleep together in a couple of beds. They know better. The girls are in one room, boys in another.

The house gets quiet. We all sleep.

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college mom - future Librarian - current assistant to the librarian - girlfriend - Catholic - weather enthusiast - paranormal enthusiast - story teller - dork

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