I'm laying in bed, in the house I lived in for 19 years-I still call it home. The walls are a different color and my mother has reclaimed each room for her own decorating desires- but it's still home. I walk thru the doors and the comfort and peace swallows me up.
The last few days, my brothers and I, with our spouses and children have been together with my parents. Last night we were sitting on the front lawn and the kids were waving around sparklers- I was hit with nostalgia that was like watching old home VHS tapes. My brothers and I doing that exact same thing with our cousins and the adults sitting and watching. All of us laughing and screaming and being totally reckless with flying sparks of flame. Sweet memories. Really though :). I don't feel old enough to be nostalgic. Today me and my longest childhood friend, whom I have known forever- seriously, sat holding our little girls and caught up on old friends and reminisced about things. Like the time we went on a gymkhana trail ride with our friend Jen and her family- we were swimming in a large creek- we came across this huge silver cylinder that had been dug into the bank of the water. We wiggled it out and discovered that whatever it was- it float! And we could sit on it and go for rides down the creek. So we did. Afterwards we did try to get it back upstream but it ended up being way too much work so we just let it float off. Later that night some VERY upset camping neighbors came over looking for their full keg of beer. Oops.
I love being home. I am so grateful that I come from a home with a Mom and a Dad. That I have a memory bank full of laughter and enriching experiences, of road trips and gardening,of HARD long work husking corn, painting fences,washing walls, pulling weeds, of late night lectures from my Dad when I was being a crappy teenager, of motivational chats on my Moms bed as I sobbed about cruel girls or juvenile heartbreak. Growing up was easy in these walls. If I could turn back time I don't think I would ask for many do-overs. But I do wish that I would have had perspective to appreciate my adolescent life and experiences more. I rode a horse thru Waterton National Park when I was 13. I learned how to drive a standard in a bright orange mustang GT. My parents footed the bill of years of Sylvan Learning Center private tutoring to get me thru Math. I had chronic acne at age 9 and instead of letting me suffer or racking it up to early puberty, they hauled me to doctors and dermatologists and specialists for answers and help. Not an easy task in the world of socialized medicine. I had it good and I don't think I really knew it. Better late then never though.