Family has always been a big part of my life. Growing up in a small town, next door to my grandparents, whose eight of their nine children raised their families near by, allowed me to know my kin well. My grandparent’s house was the gathering place for holidays, Sunday dinners, afternoon ice cream making and watermelon cuttings. We were a close family, and I know growing up amist all that family defined who I am today.
I moved away from that familiarity forty-two years ago, but made at least several trips a year back. My grandfather died the year that I married and my grandmother passed while my first child was very young. After that it never did seem the same. The big gatherings grew smaller and less frequent and no longer in my back yard. My grandparent’s children remained very close, so I guess you could say the fault lies with my generation. Some of us moved far away, others just a short distance away, and the town grew and grew. It just isn’t the same small town, even though it is still considered small. Our lives grew busier and busier, speeding along like a fast moving train. Life seemed to be so slow back then, and I miss that.
My youngest son was here last week with his wife, two girls and our new grandson. They live in California, far away from any of their family. We get to see them several times a year, somethimes more. Last year, we made a trip in the RV and spent six weeks in their area. We plan to do the same this year. Family is still important to me.