Category: nostalgia

Christmas Lights

My husband and I were up early today, because there’s just so much to do. I’ll take over the kitchen for a little while this afternoon, baking cupcakes, making my own frosting, and experimenting with a new candy recipe.

Last night, we went to a park nearby with a Christmas lights display. I don’t remember the first time we went, because we’ve been going every year for so long. My older stepdaughter has come home to go with us every year, even after she left for college and then her new job. The last few years, she has come to the lights with her fiancé, who has become part of the gang to us.

The newest family member to join us this year was a tiny gentleman in his Christmas finery, including a little red sweater vest that could not possibly be any cuter. Our oldest son and his wife brought their baby son over to open presents and then head out to the lights. It’s amazing how someone so small can get such a chokehold on your heart, but he certainly does. When he smiles when he sees us, nothing else in the world matters.

We have seen this lights display so many times, but it was like a brand new experience last night, watching the wonder and amazement in his big, dazzling eyes. He wanted to touch the lights, preferably taste them too, but we wisely didn’t permit that. We took so many pictures that he was probably wondering why we kept stopping when there was so much to see.

I miss when the kids were little, and my husband and I waited until they fell asleep, then quietly transformed the living room into a magical Christmas morning, filling stockings, leaving Santa’s presents around the tree, taking a bite or two out of the cookies left for Santa, leaving the letter from Santa next to the plate. There’s something about viewing Christmas through a child’s eyes that taps into our own memories of that magic, that wonder, the excitement and awe.

When our son and his wife were leaving, our grandson reached a little arm out for my husband for one more good-bye nuzzle. I thought my husband was going to melt. I love watching him dote on the grandbabies, his eyes lighting up as they brew up the next mischief and mayhem they will get into. Someday, having him, our sons, and grandsons all together in one place will be a very noisy adventure, likely with each one trying to outdo the others, and I am not quite certain who the biggest troublemaker will be (but my money is on my husband)!

Off to the kitchen I go: time to play Christmas music and make a mess, bake, get dusted with flour, then settle down for a peaceful evening of watching Christmas movies before we head to bed for the big day.

Merry Christmas!

Decade

Ten years ago today, my husband and I closed on our house, picked up the keys, and drove our first truckload of boxes and furniture to our new driveway. It had been such a long process–nearly nine months of searching online, meeting with the Realtor, walking through countless houses, inspecting every inch, ruling them out one by one, until one finally stood out to us. We could picture ourselves living there. We could imagine the kids loving it there.

We unlocked the front door together on that chilly December morning and took our first step inside. Just like that, it was no longer a vacant house. It was our home.

That evening, after a long, grueling day of driving back and forth, lugging boxes, hauling furniture, transferring everything we owned to our new place, I took a break to hang our Christmas wreath. I snapped a picture of the front of the house, the empty porch. The picture is blurry, likely because I was so tired and worn out from moving all day, but I’m glad I took it. Looking at it now, I smile, remembering how terrified and excited at the same time I was about buying the house, and exhausted and sore from moving, but so damn happy too.

Before we closed on the house, I had fallen in love with an antique-looking, deep cherry wood bed that I spotted at a furniture store. It was too big to store at our old apartment, so I had to have it delivered to the house after our closing date. I still admire that bed, the dramatic, carved headboard, every time I walk into our bedroom.

I can’t believe it’s been an entire decade since move-in day. Maybe no one else celebrates the day they moved into their home, but my husband and I adore our house and put a lot of work into it, inside and out. Our tradition is to celebrate each year by adding something to the house, maybe something small, like a decoration, or plants in the yard, or something quite large, like this year: we are in the middle of tearing down the old deck and building a new one, complete with new patio furniture, solar lights on the posts, little touches to make it ours.

Tonight, I want to take a moment to step into the front yard, to stand where I was when I took that first picture of the front porch, and look back over the past 10 years and how far we have come. Here’s to another 10, then many more, of loving our home together.

The Orchard House

I am at work today, but mentally, I keep drifting back to my week off. My husband and I drove up to Pennsylvania and met up with my brothers at a huge house on an apple orchard. It was gorgeous! There was a bridge at the end of the driveway, then a long, winding drive up to the house, surrounded by mountains and horses and trees. I grew up in a mountain valley, so I felt like I was home.

One of my brothers couldn’t make it, and I missed him. A lot. I really wanted all four of us together. Maybe next time.

The days went by so damn fast. I enjoyed every minute. I took as many pictures as I could. I stayed up much later than I should have, sitting by the fire in the backyard, near a little waterfall and pond, just talking and laughing with my husband and brothers. I wanted to hold onto each moment tightly, because I knew it would be over before I was ready.

We visited our parents’ gravesite one morning, then drove by our childhood home. As soon as I saw the little white fence at the end of the driveway, I felt my chest tighten. It was home, but it wasn’t; it belongs to someone else now. That person had made some changes to the yard, and we drove by in silence, knowing we didn’t really have a right to be upset about it, but we were upset anyway. It felt like they were trespassing, no matter how logically we understood that it wasn’t Mom’s house anymore.

When the morning arrived to head home, I fought tears as I hugged my brothers good-bye. I saw my younger brother run up to my older brother’s car, laughing, joking around about something, and I wanted so much to have one more day with them. We miss out on each other’s lives so much now, living so far away from each other.

I have already sent an email to my brothers, asking for ideas to start planning a get-together for next year. I hope we can make it happen, get all four of us in the same place again, even if just for a little while.

Yesterday, my husband and I took the day off to recover from the long drive, to unpack, catch up on laundry. Last night, he sighed and said no matter how many days together we get, he wishes for just one more. I feel the same way. It says a lot that after a day-long car drive (each way), and several full days together, we still wanted more of each other.

Driving home, I found myself glancing over at him, my heart swelling with pride and love and so much emotion. He didn’t complain–not even once–about the long drive. He did whatever he needed to do, to get me in the same place as my brothers again. I loved watching them interact and tease each other and share stories. My younger brother told my husband that he is part of the family, like it or not, and we laughed, but it also meant a lot to me that he feels that way.

I loved watching my husband visit places for the first time, his excitement, the way he would suddenly turn to me and hug me and say “This is so cool. Thank you.” I loved making new memories with him and having new stories to tell about our trip. I love that he is in my life to share each day, at home, on vacation, on the road…anywhere.

Shiny Car

Yesterday I did a 2-hour workout, but not in the gym: it was in our own driveway! I had read that you should wax a new car as soon as possible, so I stocked up on car care supplies and gave my car a spa day: wash, vacuum, hand-wax, and detailing. After all that buffing, my shoulders are reminding me today that I probably should have stretched.

I still miss my old car. I had it so long that it just felt like part of me while I was driving. My husband joked that the driver’s side was molded perfectly to my butt, and my butt only.

I’m still getting used to all the lights, buttons, and fancy gadgets in this one that my old one didn’t have. I’m not quite as terrified to drive this one now, slowly feeling more comfortable in it, but I still don’t know what everything does. The car came with four manuals that I am making my way through, learning new things every time I open one.

Driving to work this morning, I admired my detailing work, the shiny interior, clean touch-screen, everything sleek and new and beautiful. It was a lot of work, but definitely worth it.

When I got to work, I found myself turning in the parking lot to glance back at my car one more time, and I smiled. I will always miss my old car, but this one is certainly starting to grow on me, too.

Trade-In

This past weekend, I reluctantly traded in my nearly 20-year-old car. It was time. I didn’t want to do it, but I know enough about cars to sense that the next repair was going to be astronomical (or impossible).

Without me even having to ask, my husband went with me. I’m glad he did. It was even harder than I thought it was going to be to say good-bye to my trusty old car. So many memories, so many miles, such a huge part of our lives. I remember all four kids piled into it, wrestling a car seat in and out, arguments over who got to sit up front in the bench seat. Then, as the kids got older and much bigger, so much windshield time with just me and the car, singing along to the radio, talking trash about other drivers, until that car really felt like a part of me.

When I signed my name a thousand times at the dealership and got the key fob to that brand new car, I had to fight tears. I cleaned out the old car and stifled the urge to tell them to just forget the whole thing and speed away in my old car. I told myself I was being silly. Who wouldn’t be thrilled about a new car? But then I overheard my husband talking to my old car and quietly telling her good-bye, and I knew it wasn’t just me.

I am glad he was there. Not just because I direly needed the moral support to part with my beloved car, either. I was glad he was there for the first ride in the brand new car, glad he was the first one to see it and sit in it with me. He has been at my side through all of our struggles and battles, and I always knew that one day, all of it would pay off, and we would climb high together. So having him at my side for that first drive home in the new car was only fitting.

He told me he was proud of me and that I earned that car. Neither of us has ever had anything simply handed to us. Everything we have, we can honestly say is 100% ours, that we worked for it, and we appreciate and are proud of all of it.

This morning was my first trip to work in the new car. I still miss my old car, and I am sure I always will. It was a large part of our lives for a long time, something I won’t ever forget.

At each red light, I scanned all the unfamiliar lights, buttons, knobs, and gadgets that I have no idea what they do or what they are for, but I will figure it all out in time. When I got to work, I caught myself turning around to look at that shiny, pretty new car sitting there, waiting for me, and I found myself finally smiling. I don’t know if this one will be with for nearly 20 years like the last one, but it’s time to make some new memories with this one.

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started