Right now our daughter has been on an extended Alaskan trip. Reminiscing about where she was raised in Homer when the population was 1200 and amenities were scarce and her parents were rather clueless. I love how children, look for the good! Our 3rd son, David, is also in Homer for his class reunion so they had one day together. She blogged about that day and it made me cry and then it made her Daddy cry. I won't go into any more details beyond what she said as I need to get ready to pick up Cassie but I just wanted to share this.
Memories...make them good as they will last forever and be welded into the DNA of your children!
Enjoy.....from Jeanee's FB....
My
brother Dave pulled into
town this morning and called me. It was so great to see him. We met at Two
Sisters and had breakfast and caught up. It had been 10 years since he’s been
home. Together we visited with friends, explored the Spit and hit the Wagon
Wheel and the Farmer’s Market. We had a classic Glacier Burger, something we’ve
done since we were kids.
We decided to go down to our old house. The home that we were
raised in. No one has lived in it for years. It’s still standing but busted up from vandals and now decaying
into the earth.
Nothing
stays the same. But, wow, the memories of this place are vibrant, alive, and
tangible.
Remember that scene in Titanic,where it shows the ship sunken
underwater listing to one side, all covered in seaweed and silt and rust, and
then by the magic of movies, it slowly comes to life as it was, polished and
new and in its prime? Well, that’s kind of what happened.
Our house is just a shack. Old boards, warped floors with dirt
and plants coming through in spots, windows busted out and even graffiti on the
walls.
But we walked together room by room and reminisced. Memories
filled us. We saw and remembered what it was in it’s prime. When it smelled of
mom’s baked bread, and the fireplace spreading warmth and classical music
playing, and hand sewn curtains and mom in the kitchen making something yummy
and asking about our day. We saw the spit rocks that we collected as a family
and laid in the cement around the fireplace, we talked about the water pump and
how it always froze in the winter, and how the boys would pull Dave down the
hall and let go as the spring shot him into the kitchen on the Johnny Jump Up
spring chair, and the constant leaks between the new addition, and the moose
looking in the living room window, and how Dave loved to lay on this spot by
the fireplace , and how I had 2000 pounds of wheat under my bed-just in case.
All of the boards were made by dad and the boys falling pine
trees on the property and dad using his saw mill to make rough hewn lumber. The
boards were rough and sometime bent. He was so proud of the saw mill and I
remember him being so happy while using it, always with his flannel shirt
sleeves rolled up, big strong arms, big smile and the smell of fresh pine in
his clothes and hair. The house was made by a diesel mechanic who did the best
he could, crooked and rough. Dad worked so hard. Mom made it so loving and cozy
inside. We love and appreciate all they did for us. It was primitive and muddy
and hard and wonderful. To Dave and I, it was memories coming to life. Mom
always tells us she wishes she could have given us more, done more for us, but
we wouldn’t want it any other way.
I was able to visit a few more treasured friends yesterday and today.
The night ended with a bon fire on the beach, sandy s’mores and friendship.
I realize in coming home that friendship, connection, and
memories are some of the most prized possessions.
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