The Chair.

This past weekend I spent time with my Dad. Although I had recently seen him, I was able to spend a quality weekend, and it was well worth it. These are the times you know are not only special, but the most memorable. As they say, “these are the good old days.”

Staying at the home where I grew up is always an awakening for me. When I walk into the kitchen, I always smile because I can look on top of the refrigerator with out standing on a chair or my tip toes, while I suspect I am the only one in the house who can do this in our family. When I walk through the house I feel the floors below my feet. That may sound odd, but these are the same floors my Mom used to “buff” almost everyday. They are in impeccable shape for wood that is nearly 50 years old. Even though she is no longer alive, you know the time and love she put into maintaining the home that she was so proud of. She loved her floors---and she loved the bathrooms she designed several years back.

Walking around the home, I took note of memories I had while growing up in this place I called home for 13 years prior to leaving for college. The basement, which at one point was a hockey rink for my brother where we both to slide around, or the TV room that even today is where everyone congregates. Downstairs, we still have the same TV we watched more than 30 years ago---even though it is plugged in, and the numbers still blink, I know it is no longer able to deliver the news, the comedies, or the cartoons I grew up watching on that Sony TV.

One of my favorite moments was walking into the area of the basement that is not built out. You will see the wooden storage areas that hold luggage, boxes and at one point tires. But the best is the area where my Dad has planted his tomatoes that will be gracefully moved from the basement up to the garden in the backyard. There are some summers where these plants will deliver nearly 500 tomatoes---friends and family await the bounty as my Mom and Dad always gave away their tomatoes. They did it with pride.

The photo above has special meaning. These chairs, although they are seeing the last of their lives here on the patio, have been sat in by more than 4 generations of family. Both sets of my grandparents, my parents, yours truly, and my kids have all sat in these red wood chairs. Be careful not to turn to quickly or you might get a splinter. For me, nothing is like going home and taking in the memories of home---like a great novel, there are always great stories to be found just when you least expect it.

Thanks for stopping by.