Sunday, February 20, 2011


I love Sundays. Especially when one of the kids is home. Emma came home for Reading Week yesterday. So, when I woke up this morning, I was able to tiptoe into her bedroom and give her a big kiss. I don't care that she is 21. She's still my wee girl.

Then I made the maximum amount of coffee that the coffee maker could make and waited for her to get up. I had consumed 3 cups by the time she did get up, but then we sat in front of the fire and I consumed another. Bill rarely drinks coffee, so making a whole pot always seems silly. I usually end up drinking tea. So, the overdose of coffee on a Sunday was delicious.

Emma and I sat around and looked at old photographs. They were mostly photos of my life before Bill. We were still in our pajamas and not in a rush for the day to start. Sundays are great for not worrying about the time and idling away the hours. I didn't feel guilty because any time with Emma is precious; I don't care how we spend it.

Looking through the old photos, Emma remarked how my mother still looked the same - some of these pictures were over thirty years old. I think it helps that she has basically the same hair-do and really good skin. Plus, she spent most of her life smiling. Having your face in that position helps wrinkle placement, I believe.

Frank T. Savino aka Papa
Feeling nostalgic, when I went to get dressed, I put on a pair of earrings that Bill's dad had given to me a long time ago. Frank could always be counted on to give real quality gifts; you could tell that he gave his gifts a lot of thought. It's as hard for me to picture him going into a jewelry store picking out something for me as it is of Bill going into Victoria's Secret. For though he wanted the world to think he was a tough guy (he lived in the FALLS)  he was NOT IN THE LEAST. Despite his years of wartime service, he was a cream puff - a real sweetheart.  He never said a harsh word to me - never judged me or made suggestions on how to do something better. He did our taxes until the year before he died! The man couldn't do enough for us.

Tonight at dinner, I was playing with the earrings (PS - they are the easiest earrings I have to put in and take out. Love, love, love the hook/clasp). Emma asked me where I got them and I told her they came from Papa (that's what she called him). We were eating at Santasieros at a table for two. I looked at her, and she looked at me, and we both missed him at the same time.

No comments:

Post a Comment