Thursday, July 8, 2010

Family History


Every trip we take, as a family, we make more history. Each event and activity we enjoy become memories for us later on. I have such fond memories of playing in this house, in its yard.

I had no idea it was so small, when the love was so big. This is the house my father lived in with his parents.

All I remember was playing in the front yard, pulling off little tiny leaves from the trees, pretending to be a bride, and having my sister sprinkle those little leaves on me.

And, I remember drinking real coffee, with lots of cream and sugar, in little porcelain, gold-trimmed coffee cups, as we dunked delicious cookies in our coffee.

We also got to play in a swimming hole, complete with gooey mud, unknown critters below and above, and loads of laughter.

Oh, and I remember the outhouse; its stink; our spoiled-ness in going out there as little as possible, but when we did, having our perfume bottle under our noses. Oh, my dear and beautiful grand-Mom could have had in-door plumbing; yes. After all, her son was a plumber. Well, she didn't want to 'get above her raisin' '. She didn't need indoor toilets or bathtubs. She had a nice, big, wash tub outside anyway. Well, she also had a port-a-potty of sorts inside. And, my own beautiful mother, would put up with our finicky-ness, and let us use that one inside. Well, if you ask me, I'd tell my own kids to deal with it; get over it; go use the out house; and remember how blessed you are to have in-door plumbing, and so many other things.

But, in the end, we have memories; more valuable than the wood and the bricks, and the in-door plumbing, the toilets and washing machines. We have the feelings that warm our souls, cause tears to well up in our eyes. No, nothing can compare, or take that away.

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