I stopped by my mom and dad's house one night last week and was really caught off guard by the overwhelming emotions I felt as I walked through the door. The walls were bear, some of the furniture had already been moved out, and the sound of our voices echoed as we talked.
I absolutely adore Miranda Lambert - her voice, her honesty, her way with words...
I had not heard this song in forty forevers...and wouldn't you know that as I hopped in my car to leave that night - it began playing on the radio...
Coincidence?!
The past few weeks have been bittersweet for my family.
Bitter because, the house I grew up in now sits empty.
Sweet because, the house my Papa Jack lived in is full of life once again!
As the old saying goes, "When one door closes, another opens..." - after 28 years of living and raising three children in the home that my dad built with his own two hands, my parents flipped the page, packed up their belongings, moved up the road, and are beginning a new chapter in the book of life. While there is much to be said about the beautiful transformations that have been made to the home that my grandfather also built with his very own two hands...I wanted to take a trip down
memory lane and reflect on "the house that built me."
memory lane and reflect on "the house that built me."
This is the house...
I lived in from the time I was almost two years old until my early twenties.
Where I lost my first tooth and got my first puppy, Tico.
Where many tears were shed and many booboos kissed.
Where I threw a little girl hissy fit, slammed and locked my bedroom door
resulting in my dad completely removing it from the hinges!
Where I grew up playing, fighting, and making memories with my two sisters.
Where my dad built a swing set and sandbox for his three girls.
Where I helped my dad plant his vegetable garden and helped my mom plant her flowers.
Where I accidentally broke my dads lawn mover by running over a tree stump.
In the back yard, there is an animal cemetery where many pet fish are buried; along with numerous little birds, bunnies, squirrels, etc. that didn't flutter or scurry out of harms way in time.
Where the driveway is a bummer for roller skates but awesome for snow sleds!
Where the prettiest and most perfect Christmas tree was decorated every year. It's a tradition that my dad always strings the lights, my mom carefully places the homemade popcorn strands, and my sisters and I hang the ornaments!
Where one-of-a-kind birthday parties were thrown and family gathered to celebrate holidays.
Where my mom, dad, sisters, and I sat at the kitchen table and ate dinner as a family.
Where my dad cooked a "daddy breakfast" every Sunday morning.
Where my mom tried to teach me how to cook! (Unfortunately, it has never been my cup of tea!)
Where I had my first kiss.
Where I didn't always get what I wanted, but I was given everything I needed.
Where I fell asleep every night knowing I was safe and loved.
This is the house...
That Girard and I will be moving into very soon!
...And, it is in this house that I hope to make many more beautiful and priceless memories!
. . . . .
"There's no place like home."
