I made my way to my dad's house this weekend. I was tired and cranky Saturday morning and wanted nothing more than to stay in my 'jammas and on my couch for the weekend. But there were things that needed to be done and people that I was anxious to see.
I've been really lucky to be able to go home to the same house that I grew up in. For me, the word home only conjures up only one image. A white colonial on a tree-lined street. It's been the same place for almost 32 years, I cannot imagine anywhere else. Even though as an adult I have a place that I call my own, I still refer to the house that I grew up in as my home. As I grow older, my appreciation for the stability that this structure provides me in invaluable.
I also feel very grateful to have many of the same best friends that I had when I was in elementary school. The relationships have grown and changed and evolved with time and circumstances, but so many of the faces are still the same. Don't get me wrong, we go through our ups and downs. We have dramas and crisis and stand-off's, periods of silence and disagreements large and small. But so often, the strength of the friendships seem bigger than anything that may arise. This isn't to say that it doesn't take work and compromise and concessions and forgiveness. It does. But the history also makes the celebrations much sweeter. And the conflicts that arise force my to reflect on the fact that I couldn't be much luckier in this area of life.
I had lunch with my friend's A and B today. I've known B since first grade and met
his wife, A in high school. And there is just something magical about sitting around a table with them and their three children and being able to tell their six year-old son that his dad and I became friends when we were six years-old!
So yes, I am still tired and cranky and wishing that I had one more day in this weekend, but I feel filled up. And for that, I am grateful.
PS---what's the deal? get your butts down to the last post and enter the give-away already!