Today is my mother’s birthday.
Happy Birthday, Susan.
I came over after church. We ate muffins and drank coffee. I leaned in as she disclosed some old family history that she took in as a child.
I loved discovering where I came from. My Granddaddy put himself through college being one of nine children. Eventually, he earned his PhD in counseling and psychology from The University of Arkansas when my mother was 14.
It reminded me of God’s covenant with Abraham. That He would bless Abe’s children. Generations to come. And all the times God promises that He will bless the generations of the faithful. To the thousandth generation. Granddaddy did good for me. I am blessed because of the pastor, father, and witty man that I hear he was.
Now, my grandchildren? Good luck, little ones.
My mom & I then sunk into her bed where she began to read me one of Granddaddy’s sermons on the book of James. It was hard to keep up as this man writes with far greater brilliance than my Instagram feed. But before she and I both slipped into a nap, I really was taking in a lot of what he wrote about. Proud lil baby right here to come from that.
After nap and dinner, my mom began reading aloud. Again. This time, it was old travel logs. My family has ventured on many a road trip around The United States. As I was taking in the number of times we ate at McDonald’s, laughing about a mountainous trip where in 3 year old me claimed, “My ears don’t work anymore”, and reeling from the fact that we got away with only spending $500 during a 2 week road trip…I began to feel. Something that I still cannot quite articulate.
All of these stories about how we have gone all over this nation, and I felt so at home listening to them. A handmade quilt covering me, looking around my parents’ home that I grew up in. Just warm.
Trying to put myself in my mother’s shoes traveling around with 4 kids and being in love with the nutcase that is my father. Their sense of humor. Their dedication to their marriage, their children, and the drive. How they team up to work together on these adventures. How it must have felt to be riding along, looking back at your kids and then looking over at your husband. Taking it all in. Putting your minds toward the same goal. For adventure. Fun. Experience. Exposure. The unknown that comes with a road trip.
And they were just so casual about it. Free. Yet thought out. And safe.
And the later entries in the travel log became more familiar as I was grew in age. The stories became memories. And I was blessed with some perspective. There will come a point when this world race will be in my past. This trip that is ahead of me, will one day be a compilation of memories. Something else will be entrancing me in that day.
Must soak it all up and document it in a travel log.
I felt an odd sense of fullness. Sitting there, hearing my mother’s voice. Smelling the unexplainable familiarity that is “home”. Looking around me. Soaking up my past in my present. Stories of generations before me up to memories from just a few years ago.
And I just couldn’t help myself. The intoxicating nostalgia led me to pull up the black and white filter on the phone and start capturing home.
Life is beautiful and sweet in retrospect which makes me hopeful for what lies ahead.
Other than that, I am just really in the mood for a road trip now…
