Wistful Longing of a Saturday Morning

I was lying in bed, very relaxed in that state where you could almost fall asleep, but you don't... and many things begin to rush through my head-like a brainstorming session-and the following things occurred to me as I was letting my mind flow freely:

[Don't know where this one came from-it's not a memory, but I imagined it as if it were some memory that I experienced, I imagined that maybe it was one of those 'past life things']
An old wooden Staircase (white railing, and specifically the bottom step) the wood-flooring type (remembering the feeling beneath my bare feet of the wood and the texture and feel of the staircase). Although I kept coming back to this each time I got more relaxed, for some odd reason, my mind wandered around and I closed my eyes and envisioned the following things from the past...

-Smelling or tasting Turnips (raw before mom cooked them)
-Watermelon's fresh juicy taste as you bite into some that has been 'chilling' over the air conditioner vent in the floor in the middle of July... and just the pure 'electric' feeling of youth.

The feeling and scent of the house when my Mom would open up all the windows and let the breeze blow through the house as she 'spring cleaned' (the way it felt when it brushed my skin and moved my hair). Fresh scented, warm spring-summer air, listening to the trees rustling on a breezy day, or alternatively the smell of that classic-type Lysol, the kind that gags you-that potent-supposed-to-kill-all-germs type that they use in the hospital... That she would Mop with in the early morning.

The smell of my Mother's "Windsong" perfume, especially as she would get ready to go to church on a Sunday morning, and I would either be late getting ready or elect not to go.

Waking up on a Saturday morning after sleeping late having been out way past a decent hour-- and hearing my father already outside cutting grass, the sound of his riding lawn mower running or the incessant buzz of the weed eater...

Or the banter we'd share over the breakfast table just upon waking up in the morning, being a grouchy non-morning girl, waking up to Mom's coffee pot and biscuits and Dad's gravy.

Lying out in the middle of a pasture on a sun-drenched day, just to feel close to the earth beneath me, with my dark sunglasses on, looking up and watching the huge cotton-candy clouds rolling over an azure-blue sky... watching the sky just rotate around us and Time literally flying... and then dusk as the sky would be drenched in red, purple and blue as the first star of evening greeted me with the gift of a gorgeous sunset.

The House seemed to be filled with life and energy and good feeling, and promise of a new day... and I worry so much now about it all slipping away... as the House seems to be so lonely and on the decline, a bit darker than it was then, a little weary and sad... filled more now with only the echos of all the laughter and smiles, and sometimes tears that have been spilled there, wondering where all of its children have gone.