Until 2013 I never lived more than 30 minutes from my parents front door. Nearly every holiday was spent with my family. We had our traditions and habits like any other family. Boy I miss being so close to home.
I love where moving has taken my personal and professional life. I have a job I really enjoy with great people. My husband and I are closer and our lives slowed down a lot, but home is home.
I spent the morning prepping for Easter Sunday. It’s just my husband, son and I. Everyone else has plans and I have to be careful getting around anyone with my surgery on Monday. It will be a quiet day.
I like holidays to be relaxed. That takes a lot of prep work. After church tomorrow morning, the only thing that has to be done is put the ham in the oven and cook the beans. Everything else is done. My son is cleaning some things up, but by 1 or 2 our weekend will be dedicated to relaxing and spending time as a family.
The homesickness is settling in as it always does. I attempted to make my Dad’s potato salad. (I was successful too). It tastes great…but it’s not my Daddy’s. My sister and I are not playfully fighting over the leftovers or determining who our parents favorite is by the size of our leftover container. The dish tastes the same but the family flavor is not there. That is what I miss.
Last Christmas I made cookbooks for my family. It was mostly our family recipes with memories or moments from the past associated with the dishes. My Mom and Sister are all about their pictures, to me the food is the strongest memory. I can taste the home fries my Granny made in her cast iron skillet…no body’s taste that good. My other Granny’s field peas or Papa’s chicken and pastry bring back strong images of my childhood and youth.
Now you can see why I am battling the scale…you are what you eat and I am eating memories, happy and sad. I miss home…but this potato salad gets me a little closer than I was yesterday.