The Good Life
The hubby and I just spent the last few days hosting friends from out of town. After a really long spell where travel was impossible, being able to open our doors to friends again was wonderful. We talked, we laughed and, yes, we probably had a few too many adult beverages, but most of all we had fun.
Over the last few days we talked about a lot of different things with our visiting guests and wandered down memory lane a little. I don’t do that all that often which upon reflection, is a little sad. I had a great childhood. Honestly, life in general, has been pretty darned good for me and my family. Yes, we’ve suffered loss of family, pets and even friends, but we’ve cried our way through the worst of it, bolstered each other up and persevered. That’s what we do right?
This weekend we shared stories of where we grew up and a few about the homes we lived in. My husband lived in several houses growing up, but I lived in the same house my entire life right up to the day I married. (Well, except for a short period when I was in college and another when I rented an apartment for a hot minute with a girlfriend because I thought I needed to prove I could be independent.) That house was, and probably always will be, the home of my heart. I loved that house. It sat smack dab in the middle of a little blink-and-you-miss it town and I walked everywhere I went. We knew everyone that lived there and my dad and a couple brothers were volunteer fire fighters. My oldest brother and his wife managed the little store across the street from our house and, until the water tower was built, the tallest building in town was the grain elevator. It was small-town life straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Today, that house is 148 years old and still standing.
I went back to my hometown a couple of months ago and what was once a very small community surrounded on all sides by farmland, is now a suburb of Fargo. I shed some (ok a lot) of tears on that drive because while I’ve been away, my little town has grown and changed. My childhood home is still there, painted a new color with a deck on the front and a shed where our patio and the propane tank used to be. The trees in the yard are grown, or have been removed, the peony garden my mother lovingly tended gone, and yet, that house still stands. I think it’s a testament to the enduring nature of the town really, and it reminds me that even if it’s bittersweet, sometimes taking a walk down memory lane can reinforce how good our lives are. I am sharing all of this because I realized this weekend, that despite all the challenges we face these days, we really are blessed, and yes, living the good life. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever stopped.
I invite you to take a moment yourself from time to time to just stop and remember your childhood. Think back on what your summer days were made of, who your very best friends were, and where life has taken you. I hope your journey is full of good memories even if some are bittersweet, and I hope you’re living the good life.