I've just got to tell a story on her. I don't think she'll mind. Actually, I could tell a hundred after my past three days with her but this one just about did me in. I tapped on her door last night when I got in just to see if she was awake. (Remember this is 11:30 p.m.) She opened that door fully dressed, hair fixed and make up on. I said "Mother, did you just get in from being out with Judy?' This was her answer, "Oh no, honey. I've been back about two hours. I just felt so gross after being out in this heat all day, I just had to take a shower. And I thought since we are leaving so early in the morning, I would just save time and go ahead and put my clothes on and fix my hair. You know, I don't move much when I sleep, so I won't mess my hair up. And I sure won't get my clothes dirty laying in that clean bed. So, you just get me up when you get up in the morning and I'll be ready to go."
I. am. not. kidding.
Just a little stroll down memory lane:
This is the First Baptist Church - the one who grew me and married D and I. Sorta. Actually this doesn't look anything like that church. The one we knew and loved has long since been torn down and replaced with this brand spanking new beauty.
This is one side of the town square. The taller building facing us is a building that I spent a good bit of time in back in the day. The building used to be home to "The Stylart," which was THE best ladies boutique within a 100 mile radius. The family who owned it gave me a job when I was barely 15. I worked after school, on Saturdays, and during the summers until my junior year in college. I adored working there. I loved my employers, the ladies I worked with, the customers and of course, the clothes. It was a dream job and I hated to give it up. I'm not sure when it closed but obviously, it has.
This is the house that D was renting when we were dating. We lived there for two weeks after we were married. I've got to tell you a funny story about this though. I drove around for about 30 minutes looking for this crazy house. I thought what in the world, I lived in this town for 24 years and lived in this house a whole two weeks, but I just could not find it. Well, I'll be doggone if they hadn't changed the street name. I think. Honestly I don't know. This may not be the house. I only lived there two weeks.
I do, however, know this house. This is my childhood home. 105 Lakeview Road. I loved living here. There used to be a huge tree that sat out right next to the road that gave this house alot more shade. My dad was meticulous about those shrubs in the front. They had to be exactly even all the way across. There was a hole in the front yard that one of the boys t-p-ing that big tree and those shrubs fell in and sprained his ankle. He always believed my dad put that hole there on purpose. I learned to ride a bike in this front yard but it was in the backyard that I ran smackdab into a tree and totally tore up my new pink basket. I cried for two days. Until I got a new one. I was an only child. And I clumsy one at that.
Well, Marion, in the words of Frank Sinatra, "thanks for the memories, of things I can't forget."
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