Where does the time go? I have not posted on this thing forever! I find myself sitting alone this Christmas Eve taking time to reflect on my life. This evening I drove myself to the cemetery to wish my Dad Merry Christmas. I like to go and sit at his graveside and sing songs to him. Tonight it was my new favorite song, Innocent, by Taylor Swift.
After the cemetery I stopped at the Smith's in Farmington. I spent countless hours there as a child. Every Saturday Brooke Jensen, Steph and I would ride our bikes or walk to Burger King for lunch and then go to the Smith's and shop for makeup and candy. I found myself strolling up and down the isles looking for familiar faces and searching for memories.
My truck continued to drive down memory lane. I drove the same streets I drove for 15 years of my life. Up the hill I went to that beautiful brown brick house at 983 North Oakridge Drive. I drove slowly up the hill and took each and every house in. Each home bringing a different memory to my brain. As I came to the top of the hill and saw my home my heart felt like it missed a beat. I pulled to the curb across the street from the home that I built countless memories in. When I came to a stop a middle aged man in his pajamas emerged from the house and flipped a switch on the porch lighting up some kind of holiday arrangement. I was so jealous of him. I longed to go to the door and just ask for one look around. Through the glass I could see company sitting down by a well lit Christmas Tree. A large Confederate Flag hung from the banister of the loft in the front room. Several times I nearly drove my car in to the driveway wanting to knock on the door. In the end I drove slowly through the neighborhood that I remember as a child. I wondered if the same people still lived in all those houses. My heart broke as I passed our next door neighbors home and thought of how their lives had changed. A broken marriage several years before and now a son who took his own life after serving our Country for many years. I remembered a time when there were no houses at the end of our street. I remember watching those houses go up and fill the area. And I remember one of the last walks I took with my father as a young girl through the new part of the neighborhood. I remember him telling me more or less that the world was mine and I could do and be anything I wanted to be.
I had so many hard times in that home, but all I can think of are the good times. I am saddened that I will never create more memories in that home. The house on 983 Oakridge will be a part of me for the rest of my life. I must go forward now and create new memories in a new time and place.
Tonight I am missing my family and wishing All a Merry Christmas!