A little more about me

I'm rather reflective since I've been at home. So I thought I'd do a little post about some of my memories, my family...whatever pops to mind as I type tonight.

My mom is a teacher and has taught at the elementary school my brothers and I attended for 21 years. She taught there 21 years...we didn't attend there for 21 years. She became a teacher when I was in 6th grade, so she didn't teach me or my friends. However, she taught most of Trey and Zach's friends. When M and I visited her at school yesterday morning, I had the odd sensation of familiarity and yet being completely unfamiliar. I did enjoy seeing my 3 and 5th grade teachers.

My parents bought the house they live in when I was 15. We moved in on my 16th birthday. That means they have lived in this house for 14 years--the longest my parents have lived in any one location in their married life. Most of my childhood memories are from the previous home, so being here is more like visiting than coming home. As I drive around the little community, I am awash with memories: walking from school to the library to work on projects; walking from school to church for girl scouts or choir practice; asking the firefighters to break in to our house because my mom locked her keys (not once, but TWICE); Vacation Bible School; many houses where I baby-sat (if only walls could talk!); many evenings spent at the local grocery store after my mom put my brothers to bed.

My dad is retired. We moved into this house on my 16th birthday. He was working several hours away and commuting on the weekends. He had a nagging cough and would lose his breath during conversation. My mom insisted he see a doctor when he was visiting us during Christmas that same year. He never returned to work. It was totally a God thing. Our previous house had at least 3 stairs to every entry to the house. This house has no stairs. My dad was diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis and only has 40% of his lung capacity. Climbing stairs is nearly impossible for him. We moved less than two months before his first doctor's appointment.

After my dad's diagnosis, I went on a downward tailspin. I'll spare you all the gory details, but suffice to say that I was a rather difficult teenager. Yet, some of my favorite memories are from my late high school years. I loved being a senior in high school. I was on the academic decathlon team (nerdy dork right here) and was active in the drama department. I loved my classes and I worked a part time job with an attorney. I baby-sat all the time.

My brothers and I were close growing up. We spent many, MANY, nights at the local little league park at their ball games. Tuesday evening Zach played there with his church soft ball team. That was probably the strangest place to be as an adult, still watching my youngest brother playing ball.

I have one brother who is a preacher. He and his wife are expecting M's cousin at the end of July. My sister-in-law is a physical therapist. I couldn't ask for a better SIL for my brother.

My other brother is applying for the police academy. He's had a tough few years, but seems to have some drive to get his life back on track now. We've had some special time together this week when M has been at camp. He's helping me exercise and is dedicated to running in the Labor Day 5K with me.

My mom just confessed that when she was little she wanted to be a trapeze artist with long straight black hair. We all laughed at that confession: she's got red, curly hair.

Maybe in another post I'll tell how H and I met and came to be as a couple. That's certainly an interesting tale!