Sitting outside in the warm humidity of a foggy morning in Virginia, I listened to the birds, the crickets, and the wood peckers in their morning revelry. They have a beautiful habitat here. There are numerous large, very old trees on the property. Trees this big around, and this tall, would be a rare find in Colorado, there simply is not enough moisture out west to grow them like this.
In an almost mystical setting, I wondered what these trees had seen. Had they been witness to Union troops marching through the area? How many Native Americans camped under the oaks that line the spring on the east side of the property?
My granddaughter joined me on the front patio for a rousing session of bouncing on the knee and singing. She is a natural. Gets it from me. HA! What a lucky girl, to have two parents who adore her so fiercely. She will never lack for love. She pulls herself up so adeptly now, walking isn’t far off. Look out cousins! It won’t happen this year, but maybe next year we can have them all together for family pictures.
I find it odd that I have grown attached to each home my children have lived in. I equate it with them, I suppose, and the good times we have when I visit. I am sad to know my daughter’s house in Florida is sold, and I won’t be going there again after spending so many winter visits and birthdays for my grandsons in that house. I do get to say goodbye to my son’s beautiful home, where I’m visiting right now, and I guess the sadness is off set by knowing I will soon be visiting their new place. That’s how it works, but I still feel melancholic about each home they leave behind, for a little while anyway. Then it’s on to building new memories.
and so it goes…