This morning I got a little nostalgic on my way to drop the kids off at Mama’s.  There is something about driving to your childhood home that really can bring back the memories.  I enjoyed the peacefulness of my ride there.  By peaceful I mean…my kids were actually quiet!  I know!

The old dirt road I walked down many times to meet my friends at the ball field is now paved a gray color.  I longed to look in my rear view mirror and see the dust fly this morning.  The ball field is in need of a good mowing and the dug outs need a few pieces of lumber to fix them up.  But, it still looked like the place I played many Sunday afternoons.  I could almost see us running around, not really playing ball, just enjoying being together. 

A few more minutes up the road brought me to the barn.  This was where I wasn’t really allowed to play much.  I did go a few times with my twin cousins when the adults were not there.  We would play on the old hitching post.  We’d walk one end to the other trying not to fall off.  We’d chase the goats and run from the chickens.  We never did climb the forbidden ladder to the loft.  For some reason that was the one rule we followed.   This morning I noticed that it was broken on one end.  I wondered if there was a need to repair it.  I don’t remember ever seeing horses there, but I suppose there could have been.

Next we rounded the last curve and saw the house that I called home.  I watched the sun glisten off the metal roof.  I saw the cedar trees sway in the gentle breeze.  I listened as the birds sang their morning song.  I felt the dew on my sandal clad feet.   This was the place that I learned to ride a bike.  The place where I’d stare up at the stars and wonder if there was someone staring back at me.  The place I spent many summers riding the lawn mower in my swimsuit so I could get a tan.  This was home.

The house still sits between two roads.  The cedar trees still form an arc on the drive.  The house is no longer a dark brown.  It is a white, but the tin roof still lulls you to sleep when it rains.  This was home.

I pondered a little while before I got the kids out.  My memories are vivid.  I want my kids to make their own memories.  I want them to look back on the days spent at Mama’s and the fun they had.  I want to make memories with my kids the way Mama did with me.  I decided right then, in my Mama’s driveway, that I would take life at a slower pace.  I would make those memories with my kids. 

When I drove back down the road toward work, I drove a little slower.