There were three families that lived near each other,approximately a wall away and to every family there were always girls. My family had three girls,four boys. My uncle(my mother's younger brother) had five girls and one boy. My other uncle (my mother's older brother)had one girl. And everyone had their fair share of good looks,wonderful attitudes and distance.
Everyone back at home went to church.
Church was just four metres from my house.
My family is full gospel or as my folks say pentecostal.
My dress touched my ankles and my sleeves were capped. Hair tied into eight ponytails or less. Black tipped shoes,white fluffy socks and white stockings,all together that was the three feet of chubby me that I knew on a Sunday.
Everyone was dressed before 7:30 am and arrived at church at 8 promptly. All faces radiated happiness or sleep. My mind would stray Alot as a kid but the one thing that always caught my attention was when my aunt started singing and then I'd join in with her and my mind would be at focus. As service went along, when my uncle started preaching,my cousins and I would pass paper with Crayola markings on them and we'd stay distracted until my aunt asked who needed to be prayed for. All kids under ten dismissed themselves earlier than usual. It was always family for us. There were five girls in a group. My cousins;Emerald, Saphya and Olivia,my sister and myself. Behind my aunt's church she had a field and fruit trees that grew as tall as two storied buildings and we'd climb them in our dresses or even our best shirts and we'd run around with what food was hidden in my mother's purse and what food was plucked from the tree, bragging about it. Something like thirty minutes later one of the bigger kids at church would call us back and each and everyone of us would get scolded and lightly slapped depending on the state of our clothes but shortly after we'd brush it off and remember only the fun we had before the scold. Sunday was always a good day because after every service there was always a backyard adventure and a delicious Sunday lunch.***
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Footprints
RandomThere is no description of the stories that are about to be posted. nothing can be reincarnated....but i know I've left some footprints so might as well look back at them as the shore washes them away.