strolling through memories...

The sunrise this morning is dull.  There are no vibrant colors to shake off the gloom.  I guess that is a good thing, maybe it is the promise of a bright sunny day?

I could use one.

In a few moments I will go down to my daughters house and take care of her critters.  She's off on one of her annual spring break adventures.  I love that she gives her girls and herself these memories and experiences.  Pretty sure she got that gene from her Papa.

He was always taking his girls and Momma on adventures.  And some of them were absolutely hysterical.  His wanderlust took us all over the globe.  I'm pretty sure my sweet Momma would have been pleased as punch to settle still, not that she didn't enjoy the adventures, but it sure would have been easier to raise us in one spot.

And no matter where in the world we stopped, it was an opportunity for exploration, immersion and learning.  My memories are getting a bit foggy and some of the stories I remember simply from hearing them repeated over the years.

I wish I could say I remember the times with my younger sisters better, but I'd moved on to my own life while they were still in grade school.  But I am sure those experiences were there for them also.

I vaguely remember Florida and Mississippi.  I remember Daddy teaching me to fish with just a stick, line and hook.  Somewhere in someone's pictures, maybe mine, there is a picture of me holding a fish on a pier in my little swimsuit.  Maybe I don't remember it, m
aybe the picture makes it real?

I remember little me in my Brownie uniform going to the Bozo show, I think it was up in Canada, we lived in Michigan at the time - I think.  My Dad was far away - not sure what country he was in.  This was before VHS and long before digital recording.  Mom had wanted him to see it.  I am the most uncoordinated person.  And I HATE being in the center of attention.  You can imagine how distraught and embarrassed I was to be the seat called to come down and meet Bozo live on television.  To have to play a game, to attempt to win his treasure chest full of toys and well... treasures.  They handed me a bunch of balls, I remember feeling they were so big in my little hands, and I had to throw them across the room into a large egg carton shaped "thing".  Not only am I uncoordinated, but I am also supremely unathletic! There was no way that task was going to happen.

Tugging on my little uniform, wanting to fall through the floor, knowing I could not possibly succeed, I closed my eyes for the last ball.  I'd already missed with the first three.  By the time I'd opened my eyes, I can remember them wheeling that huge treasure chest to me, I can remember looking shocked that I had actually gotten a ball in the target.  I was the silly little girl taking home all of those prizes.

I don't remember what all was in there.  I'd love to say I do.  I have a needlework pillow stashed downstairs in my memory boxes - it was years later that I finally did that. There were toys, cups, tchotchke's, and games.  The one thing I remember the clearest was the hockey stick and puck.  Those were given to my Daddy.  They were autographed by some of the greats to be, and he treasured it.  I don't know what's become of it.  I know for years and years it was toted around the world, Momma helped him to keep it safe.  But life takes twists and turns and somewhere in the mess I have no idea where it went.  I was so proud to give that to him!  I know it made him smile.

I do vaguely remember the twister that came through the camp ground where we lived in Mississippi, my youngest two sisters were very small, we were living there to be near Daddy while he went to school.  I vaguely remember sitting in our pop up camper doing homework, and I remember after that storms dancing through puddles with my sister looking for things that had blown away.  To be young and carefree and not realize the danger we had truly been in.

In upstate New York, we often went to Fort Stanwick.  Pretty sure that is where Daddy sparked my love of history.  I loved going back in time, I still have my tin cup from there. I remember the flowing dresses, the dipping of candles, the smith's making horse shoes, I was so excited to be there for the bicentenial that would be happening later that year. To my little fifth grade self, that was the greatest opportunity on the planet!  You can imagine my devastation when my Daddy came home and announced we were moving to Crete.

In fifth grade, that opportunity is hardly a treasure.  In fact I was crushed.  How in the world could we celebrate something as wonderful, as once in a lifetime as the two hundredth birthday of our nation clear across the world on an island? It also occurred to me that my violin lessons and ballet that I adored were going away. I'd been third seat all city... and we were leaving it behind.

Crete was wonderous.  The lessons learned there only sparked more of an appetite to continue growing and I can honestly say I don't have time today to detail all those bits and pieces.  Maybe those are stories for another moment in time. Knossos Palace and the Minotaurs lair.  The most incredible Bicentennial celebration.  Harvesting almonds, camping on beaches, making friends with the Greek priest, learning needlework, wandering to the bakery for fresh baked breads... Eating by the water, shopping in the shops, Daddy protecting us from flying almonds at Greek weddings, epiphany and the list goes on.

In fact Daddy and Momma encouraged us to always explore, learn and grow.  Maybe I will write more about it.  Maybe I can't.  Sharing these few memories have given me strength for this day. I'm glad I also inherited that gypsy gene as we used to say jokingly.  Who knows... after all the part of the world that Daddy is from is the home of the gypsies. Maybe it's simply in our blood.  I love that I passed it on to at least one of my babies and she is passing it on to hers.

I'm so thankful for the memories that I am slowly unearthing.  Bringing them back to life after far too many years.

I have been blessed so many times in this life.  We've shared so many experiences, laughter and tears.  These tears are by far the bitterest. But I am learning to live with them.