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 🙂