“Can’t you drop me off at Amber’s picnic instead?” Ellie wrinkled her nose and rolled down the window. The car smelled like lilacs.

Mom’s eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. “Sorry, Honey. This is more important than a picnic.”

“What’s so important about going to a boring cemetery?” Ellie grumbled.

“It’s a family tradition,” Aunt Vidie said.

“That’s right,” Mom agreed. “Before we moved away, I visited the family graves every year on Memorial Day. Now that we’re back, I’d like you to come too.”

Ellie frowned at the box of flowers sitting next to her. Some family tradition, she thought. Visiting a cemetery while everyone else is eating hotdogs and playing softball.

Lakewood Cemetery was prettier than Ellie had expected. Tall trees shaded green hills. A pond sparkled in the sunshine. Little groups of people decorated graves with flags and flowers, while a few families picnicked on the grass.

Ellie thought of Amber’s picnic again and folded her arms. I’ll sit in the car until Mom and Aunt Vidie are done.

But Mom handed her an empty milk jug and pointed to a faraway spigot sticking out of the ground. “Please fill this up.”

When Ellie got back with the water, Mom said, “These five graves are ours. Great Grandma, Nana, Papa, Uncle Karl, and Aunt Nell. We’re making a bouquet for each one.”

“Your Nana gets the tulips,” Aunt Vidie said. “She loved bright colors.”

Mom nodded. “Especially red. Even her kitchen counters were red.”

Ellie thought of her bedroom at home. Mom had wanted her to decorate it in pale pink, but Ellie chose red—red rug, red flowered walls, red striped bedspread. I’ll bet Nana would have liked it, she thought.

“Want to trim the grass?” Aunt Vidie asked. “I have a pair of hand clippers in my bag.”

    “I guess so.” Ellie found the clippers. She gripped the handles between her fingers and thumb and squeezed. Just like scissors, the blades came together. Carefully she snipped around Nana’s gravestone.

Aunt Vidie laughed suddenly. “Did you know I cut your mom’s pigtails off with those clippers once?”

    “You did?”

    Her aunt winked at her. “Never give clippers to a five year old.”

Mom sat back on her heels. “I cried for days,” she said, smiling. “And I looked like a boy for weeks afterward.”

Ellie touched one of her own pigtails. She hated brushing out the snarls every morning, but Mom wouldn’t let her get a short cut. Maybe that’s why, she thought.

    She clipped around the next grave. It belonged to Aunt Nell—Mom and Aunt Vidie’s older sister.

    “What was Aunt Nell like?” she asked.

Mom placed a bouquet of lilacs in front of the grave. “She was full of fun. She loved to tell jokes and stories.”

“She was a nurse,” Aunt Vidie added. “Everyone said she cured her patients by making them laugh.”

    Ellie traced the dates on the stone with her finger. “She died the same year I was born.”

“Yes, she did.” Mom looked sad. “That’s why I named you after her. Eleanor Anne.”

     Eleanor Anne. Ellie had never liked that name. But now, thinking about her happy, joke-telling aunt, it didn’t seem as bad as she’d always thought.

“You look like her,” Aunt Vidie said.

    “I do?”

    “You have her nose. Her freckles, too.”

With a little broom, Mom began sweeping dust off the gravestones.

“Can I do that?” Ellie asked. “I’m done with the clipping.”

“Of course.” Mom handed her the broom. “You know, you have a little something in common with each of these family members. The potato pancakes you love so much come from Great Grandma’s recipe. And you get your softball talent from Papa. He was a marvelous pitcher.”

“What about Uncle Karl?” Ellie asked, pointing at his gravestone.

“Hmm,” Mom wrinkled her forehead. “I’d have to think about that one.”

“I know,” Aunt Vidie said. “Uncle Karl didn’t like coming to the cemetery either!” They all laughed.

    When they had finished, Ellie helped gather the tools and carry them to the car.

    “Aunt Vidie and I have one more stop to make,” Mom said. “But if you want, I’ll drop you off at Amber’s picnic on the way. You might make it in time for the softball game.”

    Ellie looked back at five neat, colorful graves. Helping to care for them had given her a good feeling inside. She felt closer to family members she’d never met—to Mom and Aunt Vidie, too. Maybe that’s why they come back here every year, she thought.

 “That’s okay,” she said. “I’ll play softball another day.”

“Good,” Aunt Vidie said, putting her arm around Ellie’s shoulders, “because we wouldn’t want you to miss the tastiest part of this family tradition—caramel sundaes at Dairy Freeze!”