The hubs, Abbers and I spent the holiday weekend at my parents home in Wisconsin. We were able to spend three and a half days there, and the weather for the most part cooperated.
Being at their home feels so much more…home-y to me, and I didn’t even grow up in that home. In fact, I never even lived there. But there’s something about it that just resonates family and togetherness. And that’s exactly what this weekend was about – breakfasts together at the kitchen island, drawing together in chalk on the driveway, and playing in the backyard.
Our home has these things, but they just don’t give me that feeling. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m with my parents – my family – that gives it that feeling. I only see them once a month or two, so it makes long weekends like this one that much more special. Having Abby there makes the time even more important to me. She loves her grandparents and loves the space their house and yard provide her. Nothing makes me happier than seeing her interact with them.
Even more awesome was taking her to the Memorial Day parade in my home town, where we watched the high school marching band perform (the same band I was in) – and sharing that with Abby. I started out cheering for them, but then noticed they weren’t marching with the colorguard (which is what I was in during marching season) – when I began yelling “WHERE’S THE COLORGUARD?! WHERE’S THE TWIRLING FLAGS?!” The people on the curb next to us were laughing at first, but then seemed concerned about my dire need to see the ladies and their flags. I was close to asking shouting at the band director (who was the same as was my band director 15 years ago) where the hell they were, but he seemed totally indifferent about even being there, so I let it go. The last time I saw him was a couple years ago, getting drunk at the same bar I was. Awwwkkkwwaarrddd.
I didn’t really take any pictures this weekend, save a couple of a kick-ass storm that blew through on Saturday night. I didn’t even take the fancy camera out of it’s fancy camera bag. While pictures of the weekend would have been nice, it’s almost nicer knowing that those images are in my mind and are mine alone, to recall and cherish and keep secret.
