Magic and Mayhem

We’re still at Grandma and Grandpa’s house, and we just got back from the lake.  They live 2 blocks from the city park and one of the city lakes, with a sand beach and lots of fun stuff to play on.

The girls happily swam in the lake until we dragged them out for supper.  I called them over at one point and pointed out that their daddy swam at this very same lake when he was a boy, hundreds of times, so long ago.

Having grown up without a solid home and family, I am always so amazed by the contstancy of home for many people.  I love that Daryl can come back to the house where he grew up and that we sleep in his old bedroom.  I love knowing that this is the hill that he sped down on his sled in the wintertime.   I love thinking that this old tree was here when my husband was a little boy. 

My mother and I lived like dandelion seeds.  We scattered to a different place at least every year and never felt the comfort of roots or belonging.

It is times like these that I’m so glad I can give my children the gift of permanence, of home, of having a place where they fit.  It really is such a treasure to pass down to them.

The location doesn’t ultimately matter– trees are cut down, homes are sold, cities change.  The treasure is not buried in a real place but in the family itself.  It’s the stories, the people, the traditions.  It’s Grandpa frying fish and Grandma telling stories.  It’s afternoons swimming at a lake and imagining your father as a small boy.  It’s throwing fits at dinner and being loved anyway.  It’s Grandpa being grumpy and Grandma spoiling you with popsicles and presents. 

It’s having a place to go where they’re glad you’re there.

We’re coming home tomorrow.  I’m sure Grandma and Grandpa will enjoy the quiet once we’re gone!  And now I promised to finish coloring a giant cardboard town…