draft 2

It happens when my brothers and sisters come together. We tend to reminisce our childhood days. The wedding in May gave us this chance to share and to catch up. It’s not easy. We’re scattered across the globe. So it requires a significant event to bring all seven of us together again at the same time.Our chosen spot to gather is around the kitchen table. The same old stories are told over and over but no one seems to mind. We are connected. We are transported back in time. Some of our best times were around the table. Mom loved it best with Dad at one end table and she at the other end, and us kids grouped which Mom wrote down for all the relatives to read. There was never an end to the material she could write home about. She could weave a story that left you wanting more.Sitting at the table, I felt if Mom and Dad were with us. Listening in on the stories as they did long ago. It all seemed real. It is a warm picture to envision Mom standing at the stove making pancake after pancake. Feeding so many must have seemed an endless task at such an early hour of the day. Breakfast was not her speciality. As always, we all chimed in, laughing like we did as children as we retelling the story.On one particular morning mom went through the ritual of heating the skillet, taking the mixture from the cabinet and stirring everything together. The aroma of pancakes filled the kitchen announcing breakfast is being served. Larry was the first to arrive at the scene. With one bite it became evident that something was not quite right. Mom was not happy with the complaints. Last one to the kitchen was Dad. He sat at his usual spot and proceeded to eat. All eyes were on Dad. Leaping from the table, he ran from the room mumbling something like, “Yoap.” With all the confusion, mom could not understand what he was saying. Larry quickly answered, “He said, “Soap.” Mom whirled around and there on the cabinet, beside the pancake mixture was the All Soap powder. Mom had grabbed the wrong box. The pancakes were the prettiest Mom had ever made and the last.Life was simple and uncomplicated. But never dull. When my twin and I were born, Mom needed an extra pair of hands: Dad, Mother Edgington, and hired help, Mary. The oldest, Larry and Joy, were spellbound by how two little ones could keep everyone jumping. We were on some expensive powdered milk and rest of the family were on baked beans. That Christmas Dad went to the woods for our Christmas tree. What little money left over was spent on gifts for us. Mom sent homemade cookies to relatives along with one of her funny poems.