When I was a kid, my mom stayed home with us for many years.  When she went back to work, we started going to a lady’s house two miles down the road.

I don’t know how my mom and her met.  We were fairly new to the area.  I remember the first time riding the bus to that house.  We were let off at the corner where the family’s cousins lived.  It seemed so weird; we got to cut thru the field to the house.  The girl who was close to my age seemed very unhappy I was there and she took off running away from me.  I followed trudgingly thru the field to the house.  What else could I do?  I was terrified and she seemed to hate me.

Don’t worry, we became friends.  Our families became friends.  I have a lot of good memories in that house.  In a time in my life where everything was scary and changing – we moved from Jackson out to Dansville and two years later my parents got divorced – that house and that family was comforting.

Time marches on and things change.  But for a snapshot in my life, that home was my second home.  And whether they all still know it or not, that family will always be my family.

Tonight I am thankful for the opportunity to have a project of going back in to that house.  There in the kitchen was the top shelf where the chocolate pop-tarts were.  There in the closet was where the Avon samples were that we would play with.  There in the living room, I stayed once when I was sick and couldn’t go to school – I watched The Price is Right and the lady made me a sandwich cut in to quarters!  That seemed really neat to me for some reason to have a sandwich cut in quarters rather than halves.  Memories 🙂


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