Every year I look forward to Memorial Day weekend and the Sons Of Italy Festival. Tonight, the Zeppoles were calling our names as we drove by the Rec.
Grandpa went to the festival for the Zepploes. I can remember waiting on line for what seemed like forever for him to buy a small brown paper bag filled with delicious fried dough smothered in powdered sugar. As I waited on line tonight, I was back there again, standing next to Grandpa waiting for our turn. He would let me carry the bag over to where my mom and Grandma would be waiting for us. We would eat the Zeppoles as we walked home. When we got home, I would climb into bed, filled with sugar, straining to hear what I missing outside and dreaming about next year. I only remember a few festivals when I was little. One year there wasn't a festival and I slowly forgot to expect it.
Tonight, it was just the three of us. With errands to run, it was a quick pit-stop to pick up a treat and walk around to take in the sights, sounds and smells of the festival. Linus seemed rather unimpressed, but I hoped the fresh air would help him sleep tonight.
The Italian Ices were as good as the ones I enjoyed growing up in Queens. Rainbow Ices are my favorite.
Abigail was there with friends. She was quite surprised to see us walking around, because she knew after we dropped her off we were running errands in town. I asked her to please keep our secret and she obliged. We plan on taking the children to the festival on Sunday night for fireworks.
We didn't stay very long, but it was enough for me. As much as I love the festival, I don't enjoy rides at all and have no desire to go for a spin on the Ferris Wheel. I go for the lights, colors, smells, sounds, and of course, the Zeppoles.