MacDonald” while Georgia brushed her daughter’s golden hair. Bonnie moo’d loudly as her curls disappeared into the braids on each side of her head.
“E-I-E-I-Oooooooo!” They sang loudly and off key, immediately followed by giggles and a peppering of kisses. Amelia must have heard their concert and appeared in the doorway of her sister’s bedroom. The smile on her face was wide and unfiltered. Georgia opened one arm and Amelia quickly became part of a group snuggle.
“Love my girls.”
The sun was like a crown in the sky by the time they arrived at the church. She held Bonnie to her hip with one hand and a bowl in the other. Amelia held the cake. A very boisterous game of chase had already commenced in the large expanse of grass between two lines of trees. Her girls looked to her with hopeful looks on their faces. Georgia nodded and they were off to join the ruckus.
She balanced her prepared dishes, scanning the crowd. Lucy, Nate, anyone? She did spot her mom, who was helping a group of women set up the large glass containers of iced tea at the far end of the spread. Ten long tables, covered in checkered table cloths, had been pushed together. Smoke billowed from the five foot smoker, making it look like an angry tin dragon—no doubt filled with ribs and brisket. It was manned by Henry Murphy, whose rotund belly was wrapped in a straining white apron.
Jello mounds in every shade. Cookies, cakes and pies. Georgia eyed her bright green salad she’d set down, strange and conspicuous in the field of mayonnaise covered potatoes and macaroni. She heard someone ask, “Are those, raisins?”
Georgia realized the person was looking at her salad.
Raisins?
Don’t roll your eyes.
“They’re kalamata olives, Margie,” Georgia replied, gainfully keeping the annoyance from her voice. The older woman’s round cheeks puckered at the jaw. She was looking at Georgia like she’d answered the question in Chinese.
“Now what on God’s green Earth is a kalamata olive?” Her thick twang butchering the syllables.
Don’t roll your eyes.
“It’s a Greek olive…to go with the Greek salad.”
“Oh, well, isn’t that exotic. I’m sure everyone will just love your little olives, sweetie.” She shuffled past, stopping at the deviled eggs two plates down.
Georgia sighed, grabbing the tongs out of the bowl. She piled on as much as her plate could hold and found a spot under a tree. Raisins, olives, whatever…they were delicious.
She made two plates for her girls, and wrangled them long enough for them to scarf down the contents in less time than it took to fill them. Now with full bellies, they ran off to play a game of hide and seek. Amelia held her little sister’s hand as they picked their hiding spot, Bonnie’s braids swinging as she ran. Georgia mingled a bit and did her best to avoid her mom, who she knew was just dying to tell her “told you so” about her salad. She must have been proud that the cake Georgia made was one of five cola cakes. In her mom’s eyes it was better to be an imitator than an innovator. “Best to blend into the herd, Georgia,” she’d say. “Stand outs are the first to be taken down by the lions.”
She guessed that was true, if they lived in the plains of Africa. It always baffled Georgia why her mom would want her to be ordinary.
Well, Mom, you certainly got your wish.
Nate finally made his appearance, nearly scaring her to death when he snuck up behind her. “Hey, there, sexy.”
She smacked him in the shoulder and laughed.
His sandy curls were combed into place, but his navy blue thermal was not in the same shape as it was when he’d left the house that morning. Her eyes took in the way it stretched across his toned chest. The wrinkles and dirt became less noticeable.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna show.”
“Yeah, sorry so I’m late. We were helping Dad with his new fence on the back side of the
“E-I-E-I-Oooooooo!” They sang loudly and off key, immediately followed by giggles and a peppering of kisses. Amelia must have heard their concert and appeared in the doorway of her sister’s bedroom. The smile on her face was wide and unfiltered. Georgia opened one arm and Amelia quickly became part of a group snuggle.
“Love my girls.”
The sun was like a crown in the sky by the time they arrived at the church. She held Bonnie to her hip with one hand and a bowl in the other. Amelia held the cake. A very boisterous game of chase had already commenced in the large expanse of grass between two lines of trees. Her girls looked to her with hopeful looks on their faces. Georgia nodded and they were off to join the ruckus.
She balanced her prepared dishes, scanning the crowd. Lucy, Nate, anyone? She did spot her mom, who was helping a group of women set up the large glass containers of iced tea at the far end of the spread. Ten long tables, covered in checkered table cloths, had been pushed together. Smoke billowed from the five foot smoker, making it look like an angry tin dragon—no doubt filled with ribs and brisket. It was manned by Henry Murphy, whose rotund belly was wrapped in a straining white apron.
Jello mounds in every shade. Cookies, cakes and pies. Georgia eyed her bright green salad she’d set down, strange and conspicuous in the field of mayonnaise covered potatoes and macaroni. She heard someone ask, “Are those, raisins?”
Georgia realized the person was looking at her salad.
Raisins?
Don’t roll your eyes.
“They’re kalamata olives, Margie,” Georgia replied, gainfully keeping the annoyance from her voice. The older woman’s round cheeks puckered at the jaw. She was looking at Georgia like she’d answered the question in Chinese.
“Now what on God’s green Earth is a kalamata olive?” Her thick twang butchering the syllables.
Don’t roll your eyes.
“It’s a Greek olive…to go with the Greek salad.”
“Oh, well, isn’t that exotic. I’m sure everyone will just love your little olives, sweetie.” She shuffled past, stopping at the deviled eggs two plates down.
Georgia sighed, grabbing the tongs out of the bowl. She piled on as much as her plate could hold and found a spot under a tree. Raisins, olives, whatever…they were delicious.
She made two plates for her girls, and wrangled them long enough for them to scarf down the contents in less time than it took to fill them. Now with full bellies, they ran off to play a game of hide and seek. Amelia held her little sister’s hand as they picked their hiding spot, Bonnie’s braids swinging as she ran. Georgia mingled a bit and did her best to avoid her mom, who she knew was just dying to tell her “told you so” about her salad. She must have been proud that the cake Georgia made was one of five cola cakes. In her mom’s eyes it was better to be an imitator than an innovator. “Best to blend into the herd, Georgia,” she’d say. “Stand outs are the first to be taken down by the lions.”
She guessed that was true, if they lived in the plains of Africa. It always baffled Georgia why her mom would want her to be ordinary.
Well, Mom, you certainly got your wish.
Nate finally made his appearance, nearly scaring her to death when he snuck up behind her. “Hey, there, sexy.”
She smacked him in the shoulder and laughed.
His sandy curls were combed into place, but his navy blue thermal was not in the same shape as it was when he’d left the house that morning. Her eyes took in the way it stretched across his toned chest. The wrinkles and dirt became less noticeable.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna show.”
“Yeah, sorry so I’m late. We were helping Dad with his new fence on the back side of the
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