Every Sunday, our family would gather at Grandma’s house for lunch. Her home, a cozy, old farmhouse, always smelled like fresh bread and herbs. I can still hear the sound of the creaky wooden floors as we all walked in, greeted by the warmth of her hugs and the sight of the long dining table set with mismatched plates.
Cousins, aunts, uncles, and everyone in between would sit around the table, sharing stories, laughter, and of course, Grandma’s famous pot roast. After lunch, we’d all head out to the backyard, where the adults would sit on the porch sipping tea, while the kids ran barefoot through the grass, playing tag or swinging on the old tire swing.
It wasn’t just about the food or the games—it was the sense of togetherness, the feeling that no matter what was happening in our lives, we had this time together. Those Sundays at Grandma’s house were simple, yet they are some of my most cherished memories, full of love, laughter, and the comfort of family.
