Sunday dinners are a big deal to my family, as well as every other black family in the United States. The thought of having all your family spend time together and eat huge meals that will probably knock you out for days is wonderful. But, with my family, it was always more than just that.

The legacy of the Sunday dinners began with my grandmother, Mama Hazel. She would invite everyone she knew, family or not, to come to her home Sunday afternoon for a good meal. Now, this meal wasn’t your typical meal; this meal would include chicken, ham, macaroni and cheese, green beans, collard greens, candied yams, and a roll at the very least!

Even after my grandmother passed, we continued these Sunday dinners. I personally don’t enjoy them, because the elders are the only ones who can sit at the dining room table and every one under 35 has to fend for themselves. Also, all anyone can talk about is each other or even more commonly, who had the audacity not to make an appearance. My family will talk about the same thing for hours on end! But the children, like me, would have to go in the back room or sit in the living room quietly while the “grown-folks” talk.

One of the few things I enjoy at the dinners is listening to the drunken people, and there was usually at least one of these people every time. My favorite story about a drunken family member is about my great-uncle, Ted. The dinners would alternate between my mother’s siblings, and this story occurred at my Aunt Nann’s home. Some of my family was watching the game in my Aunt’s den. I can’t remember how many drinks my Uncle Ted had, but he had enough! The game was getting good. I could tell by the reactions on all the men’s faces. Then, all of a sudden, Uncle Ted yells in a raspy tone, “Touchdown!” Instantly, every one yelled back at him, “We’re watching basketball!”

Now that I am a little older, I learned it is a good thing to reunite with your family ever so often. Every week, however, is too often! Also, I learned an important lesson from Uncle Ted: alcohol is not your friend!

Just hearing that my cousin was pregnant brought joy to all of my family. Then, we found out that it was a girl, too, which was a definite bonus. In my opinion, I was the happiest of all, probably because I knew our family had a desperate need for children.

On November 26, 2004, my little “sister” was born. I remember it as if it were yesterday. I was 9 years old and it was the day after Thanksgiving. My mom called me downstairs and said, “Letitia just had her baby!” And all I could do was smile really wide.

The first time I saw the baby, Ciara, in person was on Christmas Day. My mom got the short end of the stick, and Christmas dinner was at our house. Everyone was having a good time until my cousin, Janelle, began to speak, and whenever she spoke, it was guaranteed to be about someone in the family. The topic of Janelle’s rant for the day was, just my luck, me. I can’t remember what she said, but it was enough to make me run to my room crying.

When I got to my room, sitting on my bed was Letitia, holding 3 week old Ciara. Instantly, I felt ashamed of how my room looked; extraneous items covered my floor and at least half of my bed. She didn’t even ask me what was wrong, all she said was, “Do you want to hold her?’’ Miraculously, my tears dried and a smile grew on my face! That was the first time I held a baby, and I loved it! A few minutes later, Ciara got cranky and Letitia told me she was hungry. By the age of 9, I knew few things about babies, but one thing I knew for sure is most got breast-fed. I really did not want to witness that, so I took it as my cue to leave. I told her I thought I should eat dinner now. She chuckled and I left the room, making sure to close the door behind me.

That was by far one of the best days of my life! Ciara and I are like sisters and best friends. Sometimes it seems like life can’t get any worse, and then in an instant, it’s like life can’t get any better! Thank you, Janelle.

When I was 10 years old, I went to church camp. I don’t seem like a camping girl, but my best friend, Kemi, who also attended my church, was going. At first it didn’t seem so great, having church like 3 times a day and living with the elements for an entire week. Sooner or later, however, I actually became fond of the whole thing.

To prepare for the trip, my mom bought me a bunch of useless junk to bring and even took me to get my hair braided for the first time! She was more excited about it than I was; I think it was because she had one less child in the house for a week.

It was about a two-hour ride to the boonies in Eastern Virginia. We first took a bus, then a ferry for the last part of the ride. Our bible study leaders gave us old bread to feed to the ducks, but some girls got hungry and decided to eat the bread. Surprisingly, they had strong stomachs and didn’t get sick!

When we got to camp, instantly everyone got disappointed. Our faces were priceless; it was as if we had all been robbed at the same exact time. The cabins looked as if they were made in the ‘60’s and not used since then. Basically, it wasn’t like the church described or like any of the pictures shown.

Boys were all in one room and girls in another. The first thing the pastor warned us was, “If you roll in your sleep, don’t sleep on the top bunk.” He said this because, real shocker, there were no rails on the bunk beds.

Every day was the same routine, waking up early, eating meals, and having church every other hour. The only change to our routine was occasionally swimming in the pool. Now, hearing that this camp actually had a pool was very surprising. Of course, there was a twist to this surprise; horse flies always would make regular visits to this pool. There was an unspoken ritual for everyone to immerse themselves in the pool when you were within couple of inches of the flies. Some people had a delayed reaction to the sight of these pests and those people got bitten. My friend and I were one of the few who, by the end of the week, were untouched!

There were also many funny stories that came from my first and last time at camp! One of my favorites is when I woke up and saw my fellow camper, Nicole, in the bottom bunk with her camp leader mom. I said, “Nicole, why are you sleeping down there?” She simply replied, “I fell off the bed.” My friend and I burst out laughing, maybe because the pastor spoke about that the night before or because, literally, no one heard her fall!

I learned a lot from camp, not things I can use daily, but things I will never forget. For example, the outdoors is not made for me, you can never get enough church, and advertisements are made to mislead naïve children.

My mom is an occupational therapist. Being a therapist in general, you have to take courses routinely. A couple of years ago, my mom decided to change it up and take a course at a ski resort in Wintergreen, Virginia. She even decided to take me with her, and accompanying us would be my mom’s friend who is an occupational therapy assistant and her daughter, my best friend, Kemi.

We all rode together for the three-hour voyage to the mountains. Along the ride, we saw a gas station and decided to stop and use the restroom. When walking into their only restroom, the first thing that hit us was the smell; it smelled as if the place had never been cleaned, but obviously been used many times. So, I just said, “I can hold it.” Everyone else used the hole in the ground.

When we finally arrived, it felt as though I just entered the gates of heaven. The resort was absolutely beautiful! We didn’t think it could get any better until we got to our condo. The moment we stepped in the condo, all of our jaws dropped. The place had two floors and was equipped with a full kitchen.

All day, Kemi and I would hang out at the resort, while our mothers took courses. We would go off on the trails by ourselves and find miscellaneous things. Also, we would do every activity the resort would offer. We were both curious children, so we were bound to end up in trouble eventually. Our trouble came when we both decided to take the ski lift. It was October, so there was no snow for anyone to ski on, but to make money they allowed the lift to run and all you had to do was purchase a ticket to ride on it. So, Kemi and I bought our tickets one afternoon and caught a trolley to the top of the mountain. Our excitement was uncontrollable by the time we were a mile away from the top. As soon as we got off the trolley, we exchanged looks as if we were saying, “This is it.” We watched two teenage boys ride the lift, swaying back and forth with the wind. The seats were a bold blue color and looked extremely old. The decision was unanimous: we weren’t going to risk our lives on that death trap. So instead, we walked to the operators and asked them if they could call a trolley for us. They rolled their eyes and reluctantly called. Kemi and I stood in what felt like -30 degree weather waiting, waiting, and waiting some more. Both of us were starting to regret not eating before we left. We stood hugging each other for warmth and slowly eating our “last meal,” some nerds the driver of the trolley gave us. I said to Kemi, “If I die today, I want you to know that I love you.” she replied, “I love you too, Chelsea.” It felt like it was hours before the trolley came. Thinking about it now, it was probably no more than 20 minutes. Smiles grew across our faces when we saw the trolley make its way up the mountain to save us.

The rest of the trip just got better and more adventurous. Friends are wonderful for many reasons -- one being that they will hug you in the freezing cold to keep warm. I am glad that I have a friend like Kemi for that experience that I will never forget.

I always dreamt of owning a bakery when I grew up. So one summer, my cousin, Bryce, and I decided to take cake decorating classes. Before the classes began, Bryce and I looked up decorated cakes and cupcakes on the Internet, all of which we imagined we would have the ability to create.

The first Saturday in July, we came into class filled with optimism and excitement. There were only about 10-12 people and the teacher had a bubbly voice, which were perks. During this first class, she talked for about an hour and 50 minutes out of the 2 hour long class, which made me daydream, kind of like when my history teachers talk about any war other than a World War. The only thing that really caught my attention was her deformed cake, which of course she had a long story to explain that too!

We had to buy a lot more supplies in preparation for the second class. Basically, we had to make a round cake from a box mix (I guess that is why it was called decorating class, not baking class) and our own icing. So, Bryce and I decided it was best to make these things together. We should have known there would be a problem; there is always a problem when we are in the kitchen together. This time, the problem was we forgot an important ingredient in my icing and her cake needed some TLC to get out of the pan.

When it came time for class that next Saturday, we were sure we would make this amazing cake, which might make Buddy from Cake Boss have a run for his money. Obviously, that didn’t happen. Come to find out, neither of us had enough icing, and our cakes were only 75% done (and in my opinion, the 25% of the cake that wasn’t iced looked better than the rest). Bryce believed her cake was so bad that she wrote a note to her family on the cake container saying, “Don’t look, don’t touch, and don’t eat!”

Next time, we swore not to make the same mistakes. Each of us made two recipes of icing and baked two batches of cupcakes. We went to class and actually decorated good looking cupcakes. Of course, when we made it back to Bryce’s house, I had to try our masterpieces. They looked so good, but tasted so bad! I said to Bryce, “I have never thrown away a cupcake, until now.” Later, I found out why they tasted like that; you are supposed to use real butter and we used” I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter”!

At the last class, we could decorate any cake we wanted to. I had a vision to create a cake called “Garden from God,” covered with leaves and vines with the sky as a background. I don’t know how that came to me, but it sounded easy. So, I went for it! It actually looked great, in my opinion. Finally, I made something worthy enough to give to someone else, and I gave mine to my aunt. She called my mom a day later and told her that it looked and tasted great, but that next time, I needed to crack the eggs in a different bowl, because she found a couple of egg shells.

This ended my dream of becoming a baker as my profession. It was fun while it lasted, and I learned all what not to do while baking! I guess I will just have to stick to writing.