How often do we pause to reflect that our family can be as precious as a blooming tree?
How often do we remember to give thanks for the blossoms of our family, the precious blooms of our connection?
It’s good to be home among some of my family. Some members are scattered across the blue and green earth (one as far away as Singapore–oops–guess she’s in New Zealand this weekend!) Others are in California and New York City and Georgia and at least one was attending the Downtown Hoedown at the Detroit Riverfront this weekend. (Missed you, Tianna!)
My brothers, Mom and Dad and I told old stories at our family gathering last night. Poor sisters-in-law Michele and Karen had to listen to our long-ago stories. Such as the time Tim was almost struck by a semi as he slept in the back seat of our family station wagon on a trip home from Florida.
And of course the tale about how Kathy fell out of the car at age four. My dad had just pulled out from a small store and was driving maybe ten miles an hour and Kathy leaned against the door–Tim says we were arguing and has felt bad since that day–wow, a new twist to the story!–and fell out of the door which was not completely shut. I bounced along on the gravel and had a very sore rear end, but lived to hear the story repeated at family gatherings for half a century. (Although family history debates the actual age of Kathy. Since Kathy is writing the blog, she’s saying she was four. Others disagree. No proof exists either way.)
Gosh, we shared the old stories last night! We took so many trips as a family when young. Back in the days before mandatory seat belts, we slept in the folded-down backseat of our family station wagon. We went out west two or three times, aiming that station wagon toward the Grand Canyon. We once drove out to Maine where my dad got very sick on seafood. The entire saga, with sound effects, was shared yet again last night.
(Now you see, perhaps, why I am overly fond of travel. It was a seed planted in our family way way back…)
Our families grow, we stretch, we hopefully learn to accept and honor the differences in our personalities as well as celebrate what we have in common. Our families are the roots of an ancient tree which send blossoms out into the big wide world.
It has been another wonderful visit. I am so very grateful for my family. All of them.
For yesterday’s memories.
And tomorrow’s new blossoms.