giggles.

For a class I'm taking, I have to summarize my family's cultural heritage.  In my case, this involved going through compilations of family histories on both sides of the family.  Fortunately, someone else did all of the research, I just have to pull out the details relevant to the paper I am writing.

As I read through the short narratives included in the Johnson family history (my mom's side), I came across this little gem, written by my mom's cousin about my grandparents:

"When Aunt Vivian and Uncle Art were scheduled to come out and stay for a few days, I was so excited.  When they got here, I saw that they still held hands and, bless her heart, Aunt Vivian still giggles like a schoolgirl when he walks in the room.  Such devotion after 54 years of marriage is amazing.  They are truly blessed."

If that's not the sweetest thing you've ever read, I don't know what is!  This is the kind of love and marriage that is real, the kind that pushes through hardship, the kind that lasts now 60 years.  My goodness, it's the kind of love and joy that, more than anything, I want to find.

As Grandma and Grandpa's lives have changed so very much in the last seven months, it hurts a little bit to look back at what they once were and what they are now.  While Grandma still giggles and Grandpa still flirts, age has physically and mentally worn them both down.  Time has taken its toll, and there is no reversing the damage.

I have no easy way of wrapping this up, as there is not much to say.  Let's leave it at this:  To see someone age is really hard

moving out, moving on.

I came north to my parents' house again this weekend for several reasons:  My wonderful Aunt Cathy is visiting from Georgia and my little brother, Daniel, turned 18 today! (Happy Birthday!)

When I got to the house yesterday, my little sister was so eager to show me her new room (the bedroom I just moved out of two weeks ago) and how she set it all up.  I, too, was excited for her to have a new space of her own to experiment with and to grow up in.  When I stepped in the door of the bedroom, though, I cracked.

The realization hit that I no longer have a place in this house.  I don't have a bedroom, I don't even have a bookshelf (all of my books ended up being moved into a laundry basket).  The one piece of me left in this house was that bedroom, and now I don't even have that.

As I come into another period of uncertainty and decision-making in my life, I see Green Bay as an entirely viable option in the future.  No matter how much I wanted to leave five years ago, I love it here.  Losing my bedroom was the breaking point - the uncertainty no longer includes the option of moving back into this house where I don't even have my own space anymore.  And I broke down.

On a much lighter note, I went out last night with Sara and Teresa and ran into Timothy and all his roommates.  After a night of fun and laughter, I returned home to spend another entire day today laughing and laughing and laughing with my family.  I don't even know how else to describe it except to show you:

Meet Daniel's new best friend.

This unicycle's name is Chick Magnet...

You'd better watch out!

Somehow I can only upload one picture, so that one will have to suffice.  Just imagine someone learning how to ride a unicycle.  And then finding out 15 years later that he's infertile and he wonders why... oh man.

all good things must come to an end.

In 1999, my family moved into a new house.  Ever since then, I have had the same bedroom - a bedroom that would be the cluttered mess of a teenager's room.  It then became the disorganized (but no longer cluttered) home of a college student transient.  Now it is an empty shell.

The furniture remains, but all the things that made this room "home" for the last eleven years are gone, save for the big bookshelf that holds my library (I can't bring myself to put my books in boxes in the basement.  An attachment disorder, perhaps?).

This officially is no longer my home.  Next time when I come, I'll stay in the guest room.  Sigh.  Things sure do change when you grow up.

coffee with dad.

Yesterday morning was the kind that happens slowly.  Waking up before my alarm, I meandered downstairs to find my dad.  These mornings are so special - it's when the emotional side of my dad comes out.  I cherish these moments because they don't happen often.  We talked of life and church, family and death, all the while sipping our coffee.

Today is the one-year anniversary of my uncle's death.  The uncle that was my dad's closest brother and friend for their entire lives... gone.  I tear up just imagining what it could possibly feel like for his family.

Sometimes things are just hard, and there's not much we can do.  On the classic Leave it to Beaver, Beaver once said, "Sometimes things are just so messed up that all there is left to do is cry."  Sometimes that's all we can do - just remember, cry, and move on, knowing that we will continue to go back to those memories, treasure them, and repeat the cycle.