I Got Nothing

A Sunday Afternoon — Georges Seurat

Time was Sunday afternoons were about family visits. Most times our home was the host home. Sometimes there were visits to others homes. There was the occasional afternoons when Granny, Sis, Mom, Dad and I would set out on a Sunday drive. One Sunday we ‘followed the sun’ west to the area I thought of as the drop off. That was an area on hold Hwy. 24 with a hill that dropped away to the flat plains of West Texas. Seemed as if one could see to the ends of the earth.
One particular Sunday afternoon drive proved to be slightly more interesting. The old, green 1949 Oldmobile was comfortable even with the three of us, Granny, Sis and me, in the back seat. The Olds did not provide the luxury of air conditioning on that mid 1950's drive. The tails of Mom’s and Granny’s headscarves flapped and snapped in the warm breeze of the open windows. The vent windows were turned to catch more of the breeze. Sis and I took turns trying to catch the air from the back seat windows in our hands.
The flat landscape revealed the distant horizon growing darker the longer we rode. Yet Dad kept riding west, closer to the darkening skies. Finally, due to Mom’s persistent ‘encouragement’, Dad turned the car around and headed east toward home. We were about 10 miles from home when the dark clouds overtook us. Windows were quickly rolled up with one exception, the one by Granny in the back seat. No plastic trash bag to cover up the window as they were not really available in the mid ‘50s. Granny quickly scooted over to the other side of the seat. Those last few miles baby Sis sat in her lap and I snuggled close. That was the best Sunday afternoon ride ever! strolling monks laughter echoes off the cherry trees blossoms giggle © Janice Adcock

Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for daily prompts on


Originally published at jadcock.blogspot.com on February 18, 2015.

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