Coming Home

We pull into the driveway of my parents house and there is a flurry of activity as cousins embrace and parents lug in the bags marking the beginning of a sugar infused weekend at fun. The comforts of our childhood quickly return as we settle in hearing the voices that we have heard all our life. This is Mema’s and Papa’s house, where food is aplenty and laughs are many.  On a lucky day, the kids will get chocolate chip ice cream for breakfast if not a pancake feast. We all come here to escape our busy lives and return to the old ways and traditions we grew up with. While I chat with my brother and sister in law, the kids swirl in a constant activity passing us by with Nerf guns, Lego planes, then move on to to video games and chess as things quiet down in the evening.  On a busy weekend, up to 13 grand-kids may rally to what becomes a tornado like fun-fest. Last night, old friends stopped by and we spent hours recounting stories from years ago that like wine, get better with age.  Stories not heard for the first time, but recounted again and again. The kids half-listen to these tales as they play, but you can’t help but think that these stories will become an important part of their history.  I realize that we are lucky beyond measure that our recounted past if full of happy memories. When times get hard, we depend on these memories to pull us through. With this in mind, I can only hope that someday my kids will journey back home to do just what we have done this weekend. I cherish my family and in the same thought, Chris’s family, for giving us a lifetime of comfort and wellness. As I write this, I can smell the pancakes. I guess that's my cue. Enjoy your day everyone.