The smallest things can trigger memories can’t they. Today I went to church and sat with our RV park neighbors—Peggy and Larry. When it was time to partake in communion and the usher approached our pew, Larry stood, stepped back and allowed Peggy to go in front of him. For some reason this triggered a flood of memories about my Dad.
Daddy was one of the most polite southern men you will ever run across. He always opened doors for ladies even when he was so ill he could hardly get the door open. He walked on the outside of the sidewalk for Mom and for me if we happened to be walking together. He took his hat or cap off whenever entering a restaurant and could never understand the Montana code—if it’s a restaurant, hats off, if it is a bar, hats can stay on. Daddy has been gone ten years this Christmas season and it seems like only yesterday. Memories are a powerful thing.
The church was packed for the 10:30 service and the minister also said the 8am service was the same—she commented, “I have been here at this church since July and you all told me, wait until January. Well your prophecy was right, the winter Texans have arrived and I see what you mean. We had to have extra chairs in the early service.”
The office staff here at the park delivered our mail which arrived yesterday and I spent some time going through all the late Christmas cards plus all the other assorted stuff. Made a big pot of chili but Gina invited us over for pot roast and mashed potatoes—YUM!! The chili will feed all of us tomorrow night.
Emmi and I went to the park this morning and walked our two miles plus played basketball. Michael worked today and will be working for the next 11 days. I will have plenty of quilting time, won’t I!