After an 18-hour trip, we rolled into a very well known driveway last night. A sweet smile and a warm hug greeted us in the kitchen as we entered through the creaky door past midnight. I was met by family pictures and relics from the past on my way to the corner room of the house, where I always stay at Grandpa and Nana's.
I dreamt about misplacing Caleb's wedding ring last night (and later finding it, thankfully), but woke up happily to a sunny Spring day in Colorado. Grandpa and Nana's house is comforting, in a special way. Dad grew up in this house and has memories in every room and every chair. Just today he told us about coming home every day from school, grabbing an orange, and eating it while reading Reader's Digest (which he says he loved back then) in his special chair that still sits in its spot in the living room.
This house holds memories, stories and a piece of the past. Grandpa still gardens, like he did when my dad was little. Nana still cooks nourishing meals for everyone, though now the counter holds gluten-free Chex and almond milk for us too.
I love walking around the house and finding things I had never noticed before - like the black and white photo of Nana and my aunt at a picnic, or the plaque recognizing the 52 years that my grandparents dedicated to serving with Cadence International, a glass bottle with things inside representing the Philippines (where they lived for 10 years) or a beautiful blue bike in the garage.
I also love getting the tour of the garden, hearing about what all fills the patch that Grandpa has carefully tended to. At this time of year, he has buttery lettuce, onions, chives, herbs and eagerly anticipates the day when he can harvest his corn again this Summer.
Even just a morning at Grandpa and Nana's is charming and meaningful, every time.