I have many friends who say that they don’t keep a blog because their life is boring, and they have nothing to share. I always beg to differ. Everyone has a story to share.
I am always sharing stories with my kids about my childhood, and days past. These stories are among their favorites. They are also the ones that they ask me to repeat time and time again.
Right now, I am sharing my stories with them in a live sort of way. We are currently staying in my childhood home. It has been a year since we have been here. I know that my children feel a sense of home when they are here,yet they are still eager to discover and just BE and LIVE while they are here.
As we have traveled around the last few days, I find myself taking the long way around. I want to see what has changed, and what has stayed the same. I marvel at how this small place, that seemed so large in my small eyes, is so different then it once was. This place was my whole world at one time. It holds the key to all of my firsts.
This is where I attended high school, dances, went to the movies with friends, had my first kiss, my first boyfriend, and my first job. This is the place I came home to on my 16th birthday and saw a car sitting in the driveway; waiting for me. My first car!! WOW… she was a beaut. … and then this is where I got my first speeding ticket. There was night after night filled with the phrase, “Let’s go Lions”, as I cheered at high school sporting events.
Little did I know that there was life outside this small town. For 13 years I have lived a life far from this life that shaped me and molded me. At times, it is hard to comprehend that this world still goes on even when I am not here. I am so thankful for the stories that I have to share, both here and far away.
The other day, I drove by my grandparents old home. I told my kids that is where Papa grew up. As I kept driving past, I thought to myself, “in a way I grew up there too.” I thought about the sleepovers with my grandma, and then I could smell the pancakes. I could see us through the sliding glass door dancing to “Elvira”, by the Oak Ridge Boys.
Then I thought about my kids going to sleep at there grandparents,and waking up to a whole new set of adventures. Memories that they would always remember.
We all have a story to share. I am so thankful to come home and remember. It is such a wonderful blessing to be reminded of the amazing childhood I had. It helps unlock more stories to share with my kids.
Stella asked me yesterday, “why do you keep calling grandma mom?” I replied, “because she will always be my mom.” She is even more my mom when I am home. It is nice to be home and have a “mom” and a “dad” again.
Here are a few pieces of my story:
This is where I grew up. I moved here when I was five. It has changed some, but will always be home.
This is the street I lived on. It is a busy road, but I crossed it everyday when I walked to school. It is also a steep hill. I walked it many times when I walked uptown to get a treat at the convenience store. This is the hill I was on when I got my first speeding ticket. It used to be a three lane road, and now it is five.
This is Stella and my mom making my favorite meal. My mom said, “only the best for the first born.” I love love love Lasagna, so she is making it for me while I am at home. I have her recipe, and I make it all the time. It just does not taste the same. Hopefully Stella is learning her tricks. I love seeing her share a favorite of mine with my daughter.
This is the kitchen that used to be mine. My great grandfather built it for me. My mom kept it, and my kids love to play with it. I can remember hours spent playing with it and all the fun little goodies inside. I am grateful that my kids get to use something that was such a huge part of my childhood.
This is something that I never did as a child. We did not have video games, but I love seeing my mom play with Jex. It represents change and growth. It is so fun that my parents take the time to share this with them.
This week, I had another first in this home. I held my nephew for the first time. My first nephew on my side of the family. I watched my sister as a mother for the first time. She is an amazing mom. I laid my baby down next to her cousin for the first time. My kids finally have a cousin. That is a great first.
Last night, Jex read one of my favorite books to the kids. “The day Jimmy’s Boa ate the wash.” by Trinka Hakes Noble, and Steven Kellogg. I was delighted as I watched his face. I knew he has the same thoughts about the book as I had as a child.
I am so happy to share my story with my kids. I feel so lucky to finally be home and share a live version with them. Life is good.