Sunday Mornings

What does Sunday morning mean to you? To DH and me it tends to be a slow lazy morning. However in the past few months Sunday mornings have become cemetery visiting day.

Since we have been married DH has been responsible for Sunday breakfast. “Waffies.!!!” He makes the best, so light and fluffy. (The secret is the Bob Mills 12 grain pancake and waffle mix) This has been a favoured tradition of ours. I often wake him up because my belly is hungry and I just can’t wait any longer. We each done our comfy bathrobes and make coffee and eat waffles.

A new event has become a tradition on Sundays, the cemetery visit. After filling our bellies we drive out to the country to visit Harrison. Harrison rests in a charming rural cemetery surrounded by family on my mother’s side. He rests at the feet of my beloved grandparents. My Great Grandma and Grandpa start off the row.

Often we stop at the dollar store to pick up an item to decorate his resting place. Items are seasonal and tasteful as to not offend my very conservative family members and the local farmers.

I missed this Sunday’s trip and my waffles. I had the stomach flu and was not able to leave my house. Breakfast was ginger ale and 2 soda crackers! I am feeling much better now.

On our trip last Sunday we went empty handed but not empty hearted. DH and I built Harrison his first snowman! He is a beautiful snowman. Three large balls, sticks for arms, sunglasses, pine cone nose and an evergreen smile. We had fun building him. He was a perfect snowman for our perfect son. I am so glad we got to play in the snow with Harrison.